Fallen
by maehsweet
Summary: My take on what happens post Jump Push Fall. Hope you like it!
1. The End of the Day

**PART I - THE END OF THE DAY**

The elevator doors slid and closed without a sound, but to the employees of the coroner's office it was as though they'd banged shut with a heart-wrenching finality. Jordan just stood motionless - they all did, really. Their hero, Dr. Macy, gone forever? It was too much for their little "family" to cope with and they all started to buzz with questions. _What's going on? Where's Dr. M. going? Is he coming back? Is Slocum really the new chief ME? How the hell did this happen?_ Lily was crying unabashedly. Even Bug had to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. Nigel tried to make light of it with "Don't worry - he'll be back... He _has_ to be back!"

The last rays of the afternoon sun glittered through the large window into the hall. This day was turning into a nightmare. And now Garret was gone. Who would hold the morgue family together? One by one, the stunned employees had receded from the hall, and now it was empty, silent. Almost like someone had died. Ironic, really.

Lily carefully filed a few papers to clear her desk, then rose to leave. Normally, she would hang around, see what some of her friends were doing for supper. Tonight she just didn't have the energy. The ticking of the clock in her office was driving her insane - she had to leave. She packed up early - something she almost never, ever did, and walked down the hall toward the elevator. She could almost still see Garret standing there, his goodbyes like darts piercing her soul. A stern voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Ms. Lebowski, a word," Slocum called as Lily passed by "his" office. She meandered in, obviously distracted about something…or maybe about some_one_. It seemed that Dr. Garret Macy had more of an effect on these people than he ever imagined. But he knew his place, and right now _he_ was Chief ME, so it didn't matter what they thought of him.

"Yeah," Lily's tone was somewhat rebellious, almost like a lost teenager questioning his authority.

He looked down at her personnel file. "I see that you were originally hired as a Clerk - Level III - whose responsibilities entailed, hm, let's see…" he lowered the file and looked at her flushed face before raising it to continue, "and I quote here…Employee will be responsible for receiving and processing requests in a timely manner; being attentive to information provided on request form to ensure accuracy; resolving any related issues; and maintaining tracking and filing systems. Employees must observe strict adherence to the guidelines and confidentiality requirements of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner as well as the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Employees will perform a variety of clerical duties, such as providing on average ten hours per week back-up support for switchboard/reception coverage, filing, and scanning files...Did I miss anything?" Slocum lowered the file and looked at Lily.

Lily shook her head. "No, that just about covers it." She bit her lips to keep from screaming out at him. She had to blame someone, and right now she just couldn't believe it had been Garret's fault. That would take some time to think through.

Slocum shook his head and once again reviewed the file laying open before him. "Ms. Lebowski….I am actually quite puzzled. It seems that you now hold the position as a, ahem - Grief Counselor….with a considerable raise in salary. And that, prior to receiving this lucrative raise, you handed in your resignation. So….how did we go from file clerk to counselor, hm? Could it be that the great Dr. Macy couldn't bear to be without you?"

"Are you questioning my professional relationship with Dr. Macy?" Lily half demanded. She rose to leave the room.

"Look, I just find it rather…shall we say, um, _interesting…_that not only have I heard you refer to Dr. Macy -- your boss -- by his first name, and that you seem to be more emotionally upset by his absence than almost everyone else here, but that Dr. Macy evidently literally created this position for you, even though you don't have the proper credentials to be a licensed counselor of any kind." Slocum held up his hand to stop her protest. "You have two weeks, Ms. Lebowski…."

"Two weeks! Are you firing me?" Lily was stunned. She never realized her job could be in jeopardy with Garret gone. Something else to worry about, as if there weren't enough already.

"Two weeks to prove to me that you are an essential part of this -- what do you call it? _Family_?" Slocum gave her a nod. "You can leave now." As Lily rose, he saw that her face was ashen. "Two weeks, Ms. Lebowski. If you can prove your position is valid, I have no problem retaining you. Good day."

Nigel was in the lab, working on a little "side job" for Jordan. He shouldn't have stuck his nose in it, really, but she needed Max now, and that was one thing in this crazy, mixed-up day Nigel actually _could_ deliver. He'd always had connections out there. Jordan would be angry at first, but then she'd come around. Hell, he knew he was treading in deep water there, that was one complicated relationship! To say the least! And he, of all people, knew how it could be between a father and a child.

It was as if the whole world had gone mad since Woody'd been shot . Jordan, finally willing to show real feelings. (He couldn't touch that one right now, thank-you-very-much!) Dr. Macy, withholding evidence. And for years! That was just one thing he couldn't understand….What in the world happened all those years ago that would've made Dr. Garret Macy withhold evidence? It wasn't like him - in fact, just about the opposite. "Well, delve in and find out what happened!" he told himself. He was afraid though, afraid of what he might find. And all of the sudden, the realization came to him….His hero had not only fallen, he'd _plummeted. _Anything else he would find could only make matters better, right? But he was afraid to find out.

The phone rang, interrupting his epiphany, and maybe for the best. There was his friend, a good ol' bloke from back in the day, with the number he needed. He needed to make this fast, in case Slocum was lurking around. What a snake, really! But back to the task at hand….He had no idea what was going on now with Jordan and Woodrow, but he knew she'd come back from the hospital quite upset and more distracted than he thought he'd ever seen her. He wondered if she was ready to run...She always ran. But hadn't they all been through enough without that right now? He knew he couldn't trust Jordan to dial on her own. "Max? It's Nigel…"

Slocum was walking out of his office, keys in hand, when Jordan headed toward the elevator. "Well, well, well…." he started. She turned to face him, a fire blazing in her eyes, ready for battle. "So, Dr. Cavanaugh…Now that your paragon is off his pedestal…"

"Don't you ever, _ever_, accuse Garret Macy of anything that would imply he didn't follow the rules! If he didn't, there must've been a damn good reason…And I will find the truth!"

"I thought you already had, doctor." Slocum was a little quiet with this last thought, but not unruffled. "I need to talk to you anyway. We'll share the elevator." The doors closed and Jordan closed her eyes, wondering when this god-awful day would end. It just kept getting worse. "…need to give him a call."

"Give who a call?" Jordan snapped out of her dire thoughts and turned to Slocum.

He looked at her wryly. "You know, I am _not_ out to get anyone's job. I don't really care. I just have a job to do…Go ahead, find out what you want about why Macy did what he did….But I _am_ the acting CME and am at least entitled to your respect…"

"Respect!" she practically spat. "Respect is not something you're entitled to….it's something you _earn_!" Jordan's emotions were so raw, wounded and upside-down that she could barely control her temper. How dare this snake, Slocum! Fat chance he'd get any respect from her any time soon anyway!

"Fine! But you're overdue for your yearly psych evaluation. In fact, it seems you've skipped a few. And if that report from Dr. Stiles is not on my desk by the end of the week, you'll be suspended, possibly permanently if this subordination continues! I hardly think you could help Macy as much if you get fired _doctor_...Because if those doors slam on you this time, they won't open again unless you have a toe-tag!" The elevator came to a stop, the doors opened and Slocum bolted out. "By the end of the week and I mean it!" he called over his shoulder, then bolted out of the building before Jordan could recover. Great. Now, at the worst possible point in her life, she had to see Stiles or lose her job.

The pale, sick kid lying in the hospital bed draped with tubes hardly resembled Woody. "Woody, you awake?" Garret hardly knew what he was doing here. He respected Woody, maybe that was it. Or maybe there was more to it….

Woody's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, what's up doc?" he smiled groggily. A spasm of pain spread through him and he weakly clutched his abdomen. "See the nurse anywhere? Maybe I could get something…for…the pain."

"I'll check," Garret volunteered. Where the hell was Jordan? She had to be finished up with her cases for the day…Unless more had come in since he….Well, now he wouldn't know. Wow. What to do now that he'd spent more than half his life tied up in that place. He didn't even know where to go, what to think, how to react. At the door he paused, scanning the hall.

A movement to his right caught his attention. Ah, there was a nurse. He walked up to her, related Woody's plea for pain medication. "I'll have to check with the doctor," she told him, then went toward the nurse's station. He wondered whether or not he should go back to the room or just call it a day. What possible good could he do Woody now? Probably other cops would be by to see him, definitely Lily, Bug, Nigel, at least when they could. Well, to skip out was just so unlike him….That was more Jordan's style, he thought wryly.

It was Jordan…Of course. She was more of a daughter to him than Abby at times. He'd felt like her surrogate father for so long, he couldn't imagine how she was coping with this. God, she'd actually been crying earlier. He needed time to process that. But then, now there was time and only time….

He walked back to the room. The nurse was slipping a needle into the IV. Good, maybe he'd be more comfortable. Sometimes it was hard for him to remember what it was like working on live bodies. That had been so many years ago. The dead were different. You almost felt like you were reliving their pain as you searched every mark, cut, crack for evidence. But you knew it was over for them, the pain - not physical and not mental and not emotional pain. Just release?

Woody felt stabs of pain pulse through his body. Hopefully Doc would find someone who could give him something to stop it. He hated the thought of it though - drugs. It was like a dirty word to him, something vile, a sign of weakness. He almost wished he had died when the bullet pierced his skin, hot and searing, shattering fragments of skin and who knew what else - they still weren't sure of the damage. But his dreams had shattered too, hadn't they?

Jordan was gone. He was sure she wouldn't be back. He made it clear he didn't want her back. A lie. Another thing he hated - lies. What she said, the words she'd whispered. All of it lies. Pity. Lies.

The nurse came in then, noticed the look of torment on his pale face. "It'll be alright, you'll see," she said, injecting the hated medication. "This will make it all better."

He started to drift off to sleep. He thought of what the nurse had said. No. It would not be "all better". There was no drug in the world that would ever cure the effect Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh had on his heart. Lies…..But he could hear the whispered pleas, declarations of love, so bittersweet, over and over as he drifted to sleep.


	2. Who's Sorry Now?

**PART II - WHO'S SORRY NOW?**

When the elevator doors opened, it looked like it would be a typical day at the office. But there was an ominous silence that hung in the air, in tune with the rain that was drizzling down onto the roof tops and sidewalks and streets of Boston. Lily walked slowly down the hall. She needed to know what was in her personnel file, exactly. What to do, what to do? She'd lain awake all night torn between a million thoughts. She felt terribly guilty somehow, and she wondered if maybe it wasn't time to get out of this place. Go back to Pennsylvania maybe? She could possibly find work in Philly, Harrisburg, Pittsburgh? Ridiculous, she thought. She hadn't even known Garret when this big cover-up had occurred. Maybe if she had she could have said something, done something. But she couldn't sit around and feel guilty -- that was just pointless. She mindlessly grabbed a stack of papers from her in-box. The words were just a blur and she realized that she was crying. Bug had seen her walk in. She looked pale and tired and very vulnerable. He hated the fact that Dr. Macy was the one who had upset her so much. He knew what that meant - her feelings for him remained unchanged, despite the desperate puppy Seely hanging around every corner. He steadied himself, looked through the glass and hurried inside. He would just be all business. It couldn't be any other way. "I need you to meet with the Raimes family….They're son was hit by a car last night. They'll be in to ID the body at about …." But he couldn't hold in his concern any longer. "Are you okay?"

"How can I be okay? How can anything be okay?" Lily started. She glanced down at the visitor's passes sitting neatly piled on the corner of her desk, on top of a sign-in sheet. "I guess I'm in charge of this too, huh?" she said. "Bug…._what happened_!"

He shook his head. "I don't know, Lily….I just don't know."

Stragglers meandered in to the conference room in response to memos posted on desks and doors and - if one had bothered to check - on the bulletin board. Some of them were noticeably late. It was a small sign of disrespect, but it was too soon to give Slocum a chance, and because of the way Dr. Macy had been ousted, no one was sure of what to do anyway. He'd been such an example to them after all…A great boss, always expecting them to give their best. More than a father-figure. He _cared_ about what went on in the morgue, what effort they put into their work, even sometimes what went on in their personal lives. A boss that cared…a novelty now, right? Well, Slocum would have to really prove something. Everyone knew it. No one more than the man himself.

"I expect _all_ my medical examiners on time, and we'll have a meeting every morning to assign cases," Jack Slocum was a little stern, but he knew he had a difficult week ahead of him. Probably months, if he really wanted to stick around. No, best to take charge now and show his soft spots later, if they would let him. Who knew that Garret Macy's shoes would be so hard to fill? "This is not negotiable. If you miss the meeting, you don't get cases, and if you don't have cases, you might as well stay home. There are plenty of people we can train to take your place…Your choice, ladies and gentlemen," he gave them a stern smile, a tight-lipped we'll-just-see-who's-in-charge look, and it wasn't lost on them.

Nigel and Bug looked at one another, and their responding "who-does-he-think-he-is!" look wasn't lost on Slocum. Those two would need some watching. He would have to try to gain their trust quickly, though - already a gargantuan task it seemed - and maybe the others would follow. Big maybe. He looked around the room, trying to gauge other faces, other reactions. Other absences.

And one person's absence was more than noticeable. Damn. He knew others would follow her example too. He'd have to tread lightly there, though….After all, she was the one who'd uncovered the truth, the one whose sharp wit had caused Garret Macy's disclosure. She excelled at this job -- had more than a knack for it -- and he really couldn't afford to start losing medical examiners, regardless of what he'd just told the staff. He rubbed at his temples. God, what a headache this was, and it was only just beginning.

Impatiently Jordan dialed the number again. He had to be around somewhere, right? No answer. She threw the phone across the room. Damn it! How the hell was she supposed to get in touch with Cal if he wouldn't answer the damn cell phone! She looked at the clock and groaned. Late for work. Great. She was already off to a bad start with Slocum. Oh well, screw it. She needed to find Cal first. Woody was supposed to have a second surgery and _someone_ needed to be with him. It sure as hell couldn't be her. She hit re-dial and waited, her eyes bloodshot. But whether that was from lack of sleep or the bottle of vodka now lying empty was anybody's guess.

The longer she waited, the less she cared about the job. At least she tried to tell herself that over and over. But in between the long silence and dialing Cal's number again and again, she called Dr. Howard Stiles and told him she'd be dropping by that morning. Hmm, maybe she did care…a little.

Max stood outside the ICU. God, the kid really did look awful. Nigel had told him the situation was grave, but Nigel was an exaggerator at times. Actually, Max was a little surprised that Jordan wasn't there. He thought she was in love with him - that she had been for quite some time - but with Jordan who could really tell? Certainly not him. She was so good at keeping secrets….a family trait. He shook his head ruefully. Was it too late for Jordan to have some kind of normal life? "Well, here goes!" he muttered and walked into the room. Woody didn't stir. Max quietly pulled up a chair, prepared to wait it out. He really had no idea what was going on between them, but he was going to find out once and for all. Jordan did deserve _some_ happiness, _some_ sense of normal - something he'd never been able to give. But maybe Woody could. And maybe it would make up for….well, plenty of time to think about that.

Jordan walked in to the office of Dr. Howard Stiles, her long locks dripping wet, her sweater damp and clingy. "Well, sexy… So we meet again!" Stiles was crude as ever. He'd been expecting her for months, but Dr. Macy had never pushed the issue except when necessary. In fact, Macy had been all too happy to let Jordan keep her demons locked inside. Disaster occurred any time she confronted her past, and frankly she was a better employee when she had an axe to grind. He looked down at her file. How the hell the new chief got her to agree to meet with him was…well, he should buy that man a drink. He looked up grinning, some comment poised on his lips. But the look on Jordan's face stopped whatever smart-ass or sexual innuendo he was going for next. "Jordan…." he began, surprised by her obvious pain and anguish.

She pushed past him and plopped into a chair. "Well, where do we start?" she demanded. She was edgy and frustrated, and she never had gotten in touch with Cal. Instead she'd called Garret and left a message, asking him to check on Woody. Then, never being one to worry about regular working hours -- and besides, she had a lot of vacation time she'd never used anyway, she thought wryly -- she'd headed over to see Dr. Stiles and get this thing out of the way, just in case…

She didn't let her mind dwell there too long. She was primed and ready to run, but something -- _someone _-- was holding her here in Boston, and she knew it. After hours of sitting in the shadows drinking and replaying their conversation, then tossing and turning all night - and intermittently trying to reach Cal - she'd come to the conclusion that Woody must have been too doped up to understand what she'd said. At least that's what she hoped. And it all came down to that. How stupid could she have been!

She brushed a stray hair out of her face and just sat there.

Where to even begin? The first day she'd met him -- which was the day when an old flame had popped into her life and made her question whether or not she was ready for something deeper in a relationship? She remembered it vividly. Woody had asked her if she liked his tie. She hadn't. He said he'd get another one….and he had. Unbelievable, she'd thought. Naïve, she'd thought. He won't last, she'd thought. I can have a lot of fun with this one, she'd thought….it's too easy, he's too easy. And that had evolved into light banter and teasing and comfort and friendship and something electric that hung in the air between them. But she hadn't been aware of it for a long time.

What else? Hmmm…The day he'd told her he would fix everything for her, go with her to wherever it was she was going, without even knowing. He'd rescued her from Herman Redding. "You could have died," he'd said. And there had been urgency in his voice, a tone that was new and that she brushed off as maybe fear of losing his career….It had never occurred to her at the time that maybe it was the fear that he could have lost her.

Or that she'd rescued him from the weird paranoid and delusional man in the desert who thought they were aliens after they had kissed by the camp fire? Maybe it was when they were all together at her father's bar, trying to solve an old murder case? When they'd danced together, sang together, laughed together, solved cases together. He'd always been there to rescue her, she thought, clearly seeing it for the first time…facing it and owning it. Yes, and there was also the fact that he knew her almost better than she knew herself. He'd told her once that she was like an addict. She couldn't help herself but dig into the past, run toward the danger. He had been so right. And she had been so blind. And now?

While all these thoughts were running through her mind, Stiles was patiently waiting. Jordan was…well, Jordan. And everything about Jordan was just complicated. He could see so many emotions playing across her face and he wondered what she was thinking. You needed to let her start the conversation if you were ever going to get anywhere with her. He thought back to all the clients he'd had over the years. Well, this was one the books hadn't ever prepared him for! Every time he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could actually help her and clear up some of her angst, she would throw him a curve ball….or run. He thought he saw that same look, wondered if she was planning her escape. But he just waited.

Jordan was playing with the bottom of her shirt, twisting it this way and that. "I need your help," she finally stated simply.

"Well, that's what they pay me for…" He tried to make light of the situation because he really wasn't sure how to handle her this time. He wasn't sure that his old tried-and-true methods and questions and suggestions would work this time. He took a deep breath. He was wondering….Maybe she'd finally solved her mother's murder and then what? That was an integral part of who she was, it made her tick. Maybe he should've stayed home. "What seems to be troubling you this time, Jordan? Old demons again? New clues surface?"he joked. She looked at him in anguish and then it all tumbled out. Everything. Her father's loud absence from her life, Garret's fall, Woody's pursuit of her for a few years and - hardest to admit - her real feelings about him. And Woody's ultimate rejection of her. It seemed like her world was just unraveling and she didn't spare him any of the details for once.

Stiles listened patiently, more than surprised that she was not only in love but that she had let herself be vulnerable to someone. To more than one someone, albeit in different ways. And that in every relationship where she had done that, everything was about as screwed up as it could get.

She started to get antsy, that crazy fidgeting that always signaled she would be leaving the office at least, if not Boston as well. He didn't know what to say. All his training failed him, the years of classes and degrees and the sympathy he had for her and he ruefully smiled. _I'm worthless as a shrink_, he thought. _I'm too invested in this and I don't have a single word of comfort_. He cleared his throat. She was staring at him expectantly, as if he had some magic formula to cure all this pain. But he didn't. In fact, even his advice was useless. "In order to have some semblance of normal in your life, you're going to have to resolve all of these issues within yourself, Jordan. I just don't know how you can do that right now…Quite frankly, I'm surprised you're still in Boston," he said at last, watching her for any sign that she wasn't planning to stay.

She looked at him, hurt and confused and maybe betrayed. "Well, the weather today kinda' canceled my travel plans," she said wryly. "So where should I start?"

He shook his head again. He was so dumbfounded. This time nothing had been about her mother. Nothing.

Garret let the phone ring and ring. He'd had about a dozen messages last night from Bug, from Nigel, from Lily….Even one from Renee. He'd almost been expecting them to all show up on his doorstep. He'd gotten home from the hospital - not that he'd really done Woody any bit of good - and poured himself a drink, putting some blues on the turntable. He truly understood jazz, especially now. He'd just sat in the dark, wishing that it had all been a bad dream. The past really had come back to bite him in the ass, so to speak, and now he was out of a job.

But it hadn't been just a job….It was his _life_. In a nutshell. The morgue, the people….as macabre as it may have seemed, everything that he cared about, everyone that he cared about, was tied to the morgue. To see them all standing there as he'd stood in the elevator, the puzzlement in their eyes, the hurt….It was like he'd disappointed his children or something.

Jordan's voice came over the machine. "Garret, it's me...Could you please, _please_ check on Woody. He has another surgery scheduled and I, uh, I...Oops, gotta' go!" she'd poured it out and hung up before he could even rouse from the chair. He got up, showered and headed off to the hospital. There was nothing else on his agenda for the day anyway.

Jordan sat in her car, her keys in the ignition, her hands on the steering wheel. Going nowhere. Make a list, Stiles had finally said. Tackle one thing - the good, the bad, the ugly of it - at a time. What was it she needed to resolve?

Well, there was the thing with Garret. She just couldn't believe he'd done it. A cover-up. That just was _not_ the Garret Macy she knew. If she didn't clear him or at least convince herself he was still worth trusting, work would never be bearable again. How could she work for another boss? No one else understood and respected her work ethic like Garret. Their friendship had transcended the boundaries that should have been in place between an employer and an employee. God only knew how many times he'd covered her ass, even during his romantic fling with the DA Renee Walcott. He'd gone to bat for her more, stood up for her more, praised her skills as a medical examiner more, and gotten her out of hot water more than any other boss could have, or _would_ have. She should have been fired years ago. She really owed him a lot.

And, oh yeah….how about the resolution of her mother's murder that had been the driving force in her life for how many years and had ruined her chances with Woody? She'd been going over the clues, the evidence….Practically her whole life she had been caught in a cardboard box of worthless leads and meaningless information that led to….nothing. An estranged relationship with her father. A bitter thorn that made anything more than stilted conversation impossible. Nothing. A half-brother who'd jumped from almost the top of a construction site for a high-rise. Whose body had never been found. Nothing. A relationship with her grandmother that was far from normal, when they were speaking at all. Nothing. It had all led to nothing. And now that she'd had something worthy of the focused attention she lavished on that damn box, she'd ruined it out of - what? Fear?

Ah, Woody - the fact that she loved Woody and really needed him, even just to talk to him now in the midst of her hell, and - he didn't want to see her. The first time she was willing to trust that feeling called "love", and look what had happened.

Everyone had failed her. Or…..maybe _she_ had failed _them_?


	3. Will This Day Ever End?

**PART III - WILL THIS DAY EVER END?**

"Well, well, Dr. Cavanaugh….It was nice of you to make it in to the office today," Jack Slocum greeted Jordan as she was waiting for Emmy to bring her the files for the day's case load. Jordan looked up at him.

"Oh, didn't you get my message?" she tried innocently. "I went to see Dr. Stiles today to get my psych eval out of the way….Didn't want to get on your bad side already!"

Attitude, he thought. Insubordination and lots of attitude. He was too tired to argue. He'd been burrowing through paperwork all morning. "Look, I have an office to run, whether you like it or not, so let's just get on with the job at hand today." He braced himself for a retort, even as Jordan was reminding herself that she needed to control her temper. She should have known she wouldn't be able to sneak in. She couldn't afford to lose her job, at least not just yet. Maybe she wouldn't care later, but right now _this_ was where she needed to be.

But there was no retort, and Slocum was surprised. Instead, she merely nodded, almost dismissing him. "I'll expect your reports on my desk before you leave." He glanced up at the clock. It was already past three. "Not much time….better get moving." He turned before she could say anything that negated his authority over her, feeling as though he might have won a small battle, but knowing full-well he really had not. He'd been prepared for some reaction, but she'd merely acquiesced. And that was _not_ the Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh he'd read about from her personnel file. He wondered if this was merely the calm before the storm.

Jordan hadn't realized that she'd been holding her breath until Slocum left her office. She sighed deeply, glancing at the dozen or so memos on policy changes, all "effective immediately", that were taped to the back of her chair, a trick Emmy used from time to time when she didn't want Dr. Macy to miss anything that screamed of importance. She un-taped each one, crumpling them and tossing them like basketballs into the waste basket without bothering to give them more than just a cursory glance, if that, just in case….No, that was wishful thinking. Woody was certainly not going to get in touch with her any time soon. And Garret wouldn't call her at the office…If he had any news at all, he'd just call her on her cell phone. She heard one of the newer technicians - an office veteran of all of two months maybe - sobbing in the hall. The first victim of Jack Slocum, maybe?

She already hated Slocum, and it was not because he was a horrible medical examiner. He was good. Really good, as a matter of fact. And he'd certainly been fair about having her dig in to that case in the first place. Hell, he'd even told her he would let her try to clear Garret. That couldn't have been easy, right? But she did _not _want to work _with _him, let alone _for_ him. No -- she hated him because he had made her confront her hero, the upstanding Doctor Garret Macy, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and in her endless pursuit of The Truth, she'd uncovered a hidden flaw, an Achilles' Heel that was too large to hide anymore. And in the end Garret left.

Memos all removed, she sat down and hurled the last one toward the trash can, but missed the shot. "Remind me not to take up a career on the court!" she blurted.

"No danger of that, is there? You're a terrible shot, Jordan!" came Bug's matter-of-fact voice from the doorway. "Slocum needs us to go out near Fenway Park. A double homicide, it looks like. Detective Seeley is waiting there for us." Bug let out a sneer at Seeley's name and Jordan looked up, slightly amused for the first time in a few days.

"Why, Bug…Don't you like the great detective?" Jordan was sure Bug's dislike stemmed from jealousy over Seeley's many attempts to date Lily - who thankfully hadn't succumbed as of yet. At least not that she knew of…So much had transpired in a day, anything was possible.

"No, I don't. I wish someone else - _anyone _else - had responded instead. Seeley is just such an arrogant …." He didn't finish his sentence.

"So, where to?"

Bug looked down at the intake sheet. "Yeah, some night spot called the Cask N' Flagon…It's a…"

"Sports bar kind of," Jordan interrupted. She glanced out the window, where the rain was now more than steadily pouring down. No need for the Old John Hancock Tower to predict the weather….There wouldn't have been a Red Sox game in this torrential downpour, so at least traffic in that area wouldn't be unbearable. "Well, let me grab my umbrella and let's go." They walked out of the office, the last crumpled memo still unnoticed on the floor.

"I was trying to catalog several Hemiptera Belostomatidae…Commonly known as Giant Water Bugs. Did you know that they are eaten as a delicacy and sometimes found in Chinese markets? They're nicknamed 'toe-biters' and are capable of stabbing with their sharpened front beak.," Bug's enthusiasm for his subject was disturbing.

"Remind me not to order any Chinese food!" Jordan said.

Nigel saw Jordan and Bug head toward the elevator and raced after them. "Jo - I've got to talk to you," his voice was urgent. She spun around, thankful to be spared any more detail about bugs of any kind. "That little 'favor' you asked me to do…I am not getting _anywhere_," he was full of apology. And guilt. But he didn't mention the reason - of course she'd be furious when she learned he had called Max. Instead, he told her he hadn't completely exhausted his resources, but it didn't look promising.

Jordan saw Slocum step into the hall. She repressed the overwhelming urge she had to give him the finger. "Keep trying, Nige," she hissed as she quickly prodded Bug into the elevator. Nigel nodded as the doors closed.

"Oh good. Dr. Townsend…" Slocum started as Nigel turned to head back toward the autopsy room. He was face to face with the detestable chief. So nice of Bug or Jordan to warn him, he thought.

"Yes sir?" Nigel's years in the British Navy hadn't been entirely wasted, he thought. He could still pretend civility and respect toward the higher-ups. He was afraid his emotions would give way, what with Dr. M's untimely unemployment….something he hoped, and maybe even prayed, was just temporary.

Slocum's lips curled slightly upward into a tight smile. Was this man mocking him? he wondered, almost aloud. Well, _that_ couldn't be tolerated… "I need to see you in my office. One hour. And don't forget the paperwork we discussed this morning!" he reminded before going into his office and slamming the door.

The _Boston Globe_ was on his desk, the headlines screaming of Dr. Macy's cover-up. The reporters were like vultures, hovering and waiting to pounce. He would have to instruct the staff to refer any who were able to make it this far directly to him. To ignore them. No comments. Period. He didn't want all of this publicity, didn't _need_ it…Things were tense among the staff as it was. He shook his head, wondering why Garret had ever given him that file. The ME's office would spire out of control if he wasn't careful.

_Come away with me in the night…._ Garret was listening to the velvety smooth and soothing voice of Nora Jones blaring on his car's CD player, all the while trying to decide what to say to Woody when he arrived at the hospital. God he hated driving in the rain. It was so depressing. His _life_ was so depressing at this point. How could he offer Woody anything positive? Surely someone else was better suited to check on him today! Too late, the hospital was in view. Besides, he needed to find out what was going on between Woody and Jordan….Why wouldn't she just take the day off and go herself? Hell, Jordan had enough vacation and sick and personal days to take off several _months_, so why drag him into it? Was she just trying to make him feel useful? Well, it wasn't working. He saw a few ambulances by the emergency bay and started slowing to look for a spot to park. Even though he'd turned over his file to Slocum he still had his ME tag displayed on the rugged Ford Expedition, the three months' new SUV he was now driving, so parking wouldn't be a problem. The only thing positive in his day so far. But at least he wouldn't get too wet. He skillfully slid into a tight place between a cop car and a Volkswagon Bug, got out, locked up and tried to slip in through the massive double doors before some reporter saw him.

Lily brushed back a long strand of hair. The Raimes kid's parents were waiting for her in the conference room. She picked up the case file and leafed through it absently. How hard was this going to be? She hated the whole notification/identification process, but never more so than when a child was involved. Geez, the boy had only been nine…He'd had his whole life ahead of him! She sighed loudly.

"Hello, Ms. Lebowski. Sleep well?" Jack Slocum asked, trying to sound somewhat solicitous. But the words came out more sarcastic than not, and Lily looked up to glare at him.

"If you'll excuse me, I have clients waiting in the conference room…" Her voice was short, rude. She started to edge past him.

"I know. I thought I would accompany you. See exactly how you handle your position as a Grief Counselor." He put his arm along the door, to keep it from closing on him when she walked through, but she had stopped dead in her tracks.

Oh, please, no! One of the most emotionally difficult types of cases for her - as all cases involving children were - and now Slocum was going to be watching her every move! Unbelievable!

"Come now, Ms. Lebowski….We don't want to keep clients waiting." Slocum herded her through the door. Possibly to my doom, Lily thought, walking toward the conference room as though she were going to the guillotine.

Jordan was bent over one of the bodies that had been found - outdoors unfortunately - trying to take a liver temperature before she got drenched. "Oh great," Bug complained. "Looks like they're bringing in the Feds," he finished disdainfully. He pointed to a line of black cars where several men in black suits stepped out under their black umbrellas and flashing badges to some of the officers nearby. "I'd love to hear what they said to Seeley," Bug said almost gleefully, noting the detective's frustration.

Jordan didn't bother to look up. She was already more than annoyed. She couldn't believe Nigel hadn't tracked Cal down! She was desperate to talk to him about Woody…_Where the hell was he_!


	4. Still Unraveling

_**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own this awesome show. I just love the characters, the drama, the mystery and romance...Okay, I love it all! Please let me know what you think...It takes a while to get my thoughts together, but I hope you are all enjoying this!'_

**PART IV - STILL UNRAVELING**

A young couple waited in the conference room, the woman's face puffy and swollen from crying. She was clinging to her husband's hand, and she looked up at Lily with pleading eyes. "We came to identify….I mean, we need to see…" Mr. Raimes started.

"I understand. I'm Lily Lebowski, the Grief Counselor. This is Dr. Jack Slocum, the acting Chief Medical Examiner." Lily indicated Slocum, and he stepped forward silently to shake the hands of Lucas and Adele Raimes.

"I am so sorry, I know this must be such a difficult time for you," he said, his voice suddenly soft. "I wish we didn't need to go through this identification process, but it is necessary you understand." Lily was surprised by the gentleness in his tone. Lucas Raimes shook his head, squeezing the hand of his wife.

"Johnny was…." she tried, fumbling with a tissue. "Do we…Do I have to…."

Lily reached for her, patted her hand gently. "If you would prefer, we can bring in a photo instead."

"No, I don't 'prefer' to see a photo," Lucas said, his voice thick and heavy. "I need to - to see for myself."

"Lucas, I - I can't!" Adele whispered firmly. Lucas shook his head again.

Slocum rose quietly. "Mr. Raimes, why don't you come with me, then. Ms. Lebowski, why don't you stay here, with Mrs. Raimes." It was not a question, but an attempt at sympathy. Lily nodded in agreement, suppressing the surprise at this display of compassion from her boss, and Jack Slocum carefully led Mr. Lucas Raimes to identify the body of his dead nine year-old son.

Nigel stood in the autopsy room, trying to assist Sidney. He had been watching the hands on the clock move for about forty minutes, until he finally peeled his gloves off and threw them in the nearby trash, untied his apron and cast it into the laundry basket. "You okay, man?" Sidney's voice broke into the silence.

"Huh?" Nigel asked distracted by the ticking of the second-hand. He looked up at Sidney. "What was that?"

"I asked if you were okay….You've been staring at that clock for almost an hour now." Sidney expertly finished suturing the skin beneath his deft fingers and sliced the thread with a quick, practiced movement.

"So I have." Nigel looked up at the clock again. "Well, I'll leave you to finish then," he said, leaving Sidney more than puzzled. It wasn't like Nigel to be so out of focus when talking with his co-workers. Everyone was a pal to him, Sidney thought, as Nigel pushed the door open and disappeared into the hall.

It was still two minutes before the appointed time and he walked slowly and deliberately to the former office of Dr. Garret Macy - still the Chief Medical Examiner as far as he was concerned.

"Well, Dr. Townsend. It's nice to see that you respect my time," began Slocum. "Please, sit down." Nigel's awkward frame crammed itself into the uncomfortably small chair Slocum had indicated. Respect his time? Nigel laughed inwardly. What a joke!

"What's this all about?" he refused to beat around the bush or play mind games. This was one chief who would not get the better of him, that was for sure. "I have an exemplary record here," he added confidently, thinking of the numerous cases he'd helped through the office. His research skills really were a marvel.

Slocum nodded. "So you have. So you have." He grabbed the personnel file from the top of the stack in front of him. "Funny you should mention that, though…" Slocum's uncapped pen rolled absently across a page that he'd obviously highlighted earlier. "You have a glowing review from Dr. Macy. Several, as a matter-of-fact. The most interesting one states that you are 'invaluable'…dated only days after Dr. Yukora describes your work as _average, somewhat disappointing considering your resume_. And days before you were due to be - deported. Can I assume that the thought of leaving our dear U.S. of A. changed your performance dramatically in several days' time….to the point that you were _exemplary_…" he was reading now. "_A skillful, indispensable asset to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts_…" He put down his pen and looked into Nigel's unbelieving eyes. "_Invaluable_?" he finished.

"Hi, Dr. Macy," said one of the nurses brightly. She'd dated one of the technicians down at the morgue for a while, and Dr. Garret Macy had always been kind, not looking down on her because she was 'only a nurse', like some of the other high-and-mightys who had a few more letters after their precious college diplomas, a few more years of school than she did.

"Hi….Nicole, isn't it?" he asked, trying to put a name to the face. She beamed at him and nodded. He was so good at remembering details. Usually. "Can you tell me…Has Detective Hoyt been taken in for surgery yet?"

"I'll have to check on his file…Shift change, you know?" The petite nurse flipped through some paperwork on her desk. "No," she replied. "I haven't any orders for surgery yet. It seems that his fever escalated through the night and they had to postpone. His attending should be in to check on him in about another hour or so. I can call you if you haven't got time to stick around," she smiled.

"Is he able to have visitors?" Garret asked.

"For you, not a problem. We had to shoo out most of the police last night. He wasn't resting. I guess he wanted his time in the limelight….The heroics and all. Glam, huh?" she went on.

Garret walked down the bustling hall. He guessed that to most people, the survivor of a cop killer would be glamorous or famous or something, but it sickened him to think about it. He had been so wrapped up in his own problems that he really hadn't thought about what it would mean to him -- to the morgue and the fine city of Boston -- if Woody hadn't made it. But it began to sink in, the revelation of what the last few days must have meant to Jordan...

Oh God…Had she bolted again? He had left his cell phone at home, not really in the mood to talk with anyone. He'd better catch up with her, have a colleague-to-colleague chat. Friend-to-friend? No. More like father-to-daughter. He wondered if he should have Nigel check on Max's whereabouts, bring him into this nightmare drama.

"Garret," a voice broke into his thoughts. "Seems you're quite famous these days," Max said, indicating the newspaper headline.

"Max! What are you doing here?" Garret's surprise was evident.

Max gave him a level look. "My daughter apparently needs me…" he started.

Garret shook his head again. "Does she know you're here?" he asked, wondering yet again why she'd been so desperate for _him_ to check on Woody.

"No…And she doesn't need to know quite yet, if you don't mind," Max said, picking up the paper. Garret caught a glimpse of the headline and grimaced. "So -- you need to talk?"

Great. Garret took a seat next to Max, trying to turn his attention to something else. To Jordan. He was hoping to find out once and for all why all the mystery. But the truth was, he _did_ need to talk. And maybe he and Max could help each other…and Jordan.

Woody kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore the innate curiosity that made him such a great cop. He needed to rest anyway. He still felt so weak, helpless. God, he hated this. He should be out, on the street, doing his job. A job that he was damn good at. He wondered if he would _ever_ be back on the street. The doctors should know more in the next few days, but that was almost too long to wait. Woody hated feeling useless. Maybe that's why he'd kicked Jordan out. Or maybe he was afraid. Right now, he was tired. So tired. He hated to be inactive. He wanted to jump up and bolt from the room. Instead he was stuck here in a hospital bed, Dr. M. and Max sitting here, talking quietly.

A million questions raced through his mind. When had Max come back? Why not tell Jordan he was in town? And anyway, what was going on with the doc? Was Slocum still investigating some type of cover-up? He sneered slightly, remembering the stupid Visitor's Pass…What had that all been about anyway? There was no way - absolutely no way! - Dr. Macy had been involved…The man was just too "stand-up, go by the rules". The original Boy Scout maybe. He was always trying to reign Jordan in, keep her within the law….There was just no way he had done anything that was not above-board. But right now he couldn't very well up and ask. Besides, they would never say anything important if they knew he was listening. Hell, that's the only way Jordan had whispered to him all those wonderful, torturous, _wonderful_ things….She hadn't known he could hear her.

He thought about that, bitterness in his heart. He'd gone in to the surgery with the promise of finally winning her love. That was what made him fight so hard through it all. He had been so happy to see her there, had been waiting and wishing and starting to plan for a future with Jordan finally in it in reality, not just in his dreams. But when she was finally allowed to see him, she had started the conversation with small talk, and he wondered if she'd had second thoughts because of the fact that he might never walk again. Like she had never said anything. She didn't know he'd heard, and so she went back to the "friends" card. It was a way out for her, in case he didn't walk. And it hurt. God, it hurt even worse than his body did….It was as though someone had ripped his soul away from him in that moment. And when he confronted her, she'd been….what? He had been so full of anger. At her, at his condition. At the unknown path ahead. He had told her to leave. And for once, Jordan Cavanaugh had actually listened, he thought wryly. Turned on her heel and hightailed it out of his room. The fiesty, push-you-to-the-limits Doctor Jordan Cavanaugh hadn't even fought for him.

Woody tried to quiet the thoughts that were pounding in his head - or more appropriately, in his heart - but they got louder and louder, tormenting him at every turn, and he thought he would explode. He thought he heard beeping and blitzing, but the throbbing of his heart was so loud it was difficult to tell. "Doctor!" he faintly heard Garret calling, as Max leaned over him. "Hang on kid!" Then he heard nothing.


	5. Another Rainy Day in Boston

**_Disclaimer:_ **_I don't own CJ or anything._

_Sorry for not updating sooner. I had to play with a few things to get the timeline right in my mind, then try to find time to get it onto paper and then the computer...I will try to update again soon, then leaving for a week's vacation during which time I will probably right but cannot unfortunately update. Please send your reviews...They are both constructive and encouraging (I enjoy knowing someone besides my dh is reading this stuff!)_

**PART V - Another Rainy Day in Boston**

"Bug, almost finished in there?" Jordan called in through the doorway. They had played 'Divide and Conquer' at the Cask N' Flagon so that they could get the bodies to the morgue as soon as possible. The John Doe in the bar had been shot at, and Bug had found a bullet locked in the wall by the restroom tipped with blood. John Doe #2 had been shot in front of the bar, his body sprawled on the sidewalk. After a game of 'Rock-Paper-Scissors', Jordan got stuck with the John Doe outside. The rain had been steadily washing threads of blood onto the street before the police had finally constructed some type of tarp to protect the body, the evidence and the medical examiner. Neither body had been dead for long. Someone had called 9-1-1 from inside the bar, and the Boston PD had responded within moments of the call, but no one had seen the shooter. Or _shooters_, Jordan thought to herself. She busied herself with John Doe #2, looking for any patent prints the killer might have left behind that the rain hadn't already washed away.

"Well, Jordan, it's nice to see you," came a voice from the past. A not-so-pleasant past in many respects, she thought with a shudder. She didn't know if the chill was from the rain…or from her memories. Jordan looked up to see FBI Profiler, Agent Drew Haley, towering over her with his arm stretched awkwardly outside the tarp covering, an umbrella in his hand. "You should learn to be more prepared," he commented lightly, trying to help shield her from the rain that was now blowing sideways onto the crime scene.

She smiled up at him for a moment, then frowned. "So, Agent Haley…What brings you down here to mingle with the mediocre?"

"You told me I should visit again." His steely eyes locked on hers, an almost imperceptible smile twitching on his face. "And I would hardly call you mediocre," he whispered low just behind her ear.

"This wasn't the social call I'd had in mind," she replied, ignoring his comment. She nodded to two officers and stepped out from the tarp. "We're through here. Take him back to the morgue." They bent to retrieve the body as she rose and turned to go. Bug had already finished gathering evidence from the body found inside the bar, had gathered their equipment and loaded it up. He stood next to her, rain cascading off the hood of his raincoat. Haley held up a hand for the officersto wait.

"Lovely weather you're having here in Boston…" Haley started. She turned to leave, but Haley grabbed her arm. "Jordan, you don't have jurisdiction over the bodies. These two men were undercover. For months. We lost contact two days ago. So….the FBI is involved now and that means…."

"Yeah, I know. But I'm coming with you." Her voice was firm and unyielding. She needed to work right now, to drown herself in her job, to keep from thinking of other things…

"Yeah, I know." Haley was offering his arm - and his umbrella.

Jordan shook off the chill that ran down her back, stepped lightly over a puddle and under the protection of the umbrella. She nodded to Bug. "I'll catch up with you at the office. Tell Slocum I'm with Agent Haley here. If he needs me - or anyone else needs me…" Her voice trailed off, deep sorrow in her eyes. But it was gone and Bug wondered if he'd seen it at all. "I'm sure I'll be assisting these gentlemen," she indicated the agents behind her, walking out of the popular tavern. "I won't be back today. Tell him to call me if anything else comes in. I have my pager." Not that she really cared because it was, after all, Slocum. With Garret she might've been a little more considerate. "Oh," she added as an afterthought, "Tell him that he'll get his reports….Tomorrow."

"Slocum?" Haley's brow rose in question.

"Long story," she said. "I'll tell you all about it on the way." Bug watched Jordan smile and shook his head as the two left the scene. What was _with _that girl? She was one big enigmatic, psychopathic mess. He had been dismissed, like some little puppy, he thought wryly. But before he could speculate any further on Jordan, on Haley or on the situation, two of the black-clothed agents came over to recover the body and he busied himself in helping them so he could get out of the rain and back to the comfort of…Well, not the morgue anymore. But his shift was almost over and maybe he could go….He paused in mid-thought, realizing that the morgue _had_ been a home to him of sorts, a place to go for comfort, understanding…many things he couldn't always quite comprehend. It was like he had this family there. But, he shook his head sadly, he wouldn't find that there tonight…

"Dr. Slocum?" Nigel peeked around the doorway that had once been so welcoming, seeking out the man who was his current employer. A hard-ass taskmaster, actually. But nevertheless, this situation warranted a visit, unwelcome though it was.

Slocum was pouring over a file, a highlighter poised in one hand. He looked up. "Yes, Dr. Townsend? I hope this is important."

"You know that body that came in an hour ago?"

"I don't recall the specifics…There have been more than a few cases running through the office today, especially with the rain. You would think people would learn to drive in inclement weather. And with Dr. Vijay and Dr. Cavanaugh's, uh, absences, we seem to be a little short-staffed." Slocum took his time, deliberately and carefully replacing the cap on the highlighter and closing the file before Nigel had a chance to see which one he was reviewing.

"Weren't they called to Fenway Park?"

Slocum looked up at Nigel, frustrated at the busy-body friendliness in his question. "Dr. Townsend, I'm sure you have enough cases of your _own_ to worry about?"

Nigel looked down at some papers in his hand to keep Slocum from seeing theintense dislike he was sure was visiblein his eyes. He steadied his voice before continuing. "Yeah, right. It seems our friend - identified as one Victor Morales - had traces of the Alexandrium algae…" He paused, so Slocum would get the full effect of what he was saying. "Red tide algae. I'm waiting for the results of his stomach contents. Sidney's handling that. Anyway, I think…"

"Red tide algae!" Slocum rubbed at his temples worriedly. There had been a few deaths in Alaska and California, but the last major outbreak in Massachusetts had been in 1972, and Slocum remembered that the water had even turned a reddish color. He couldn't recall that there had been any human victims, although some seabirds had died. "Who did you notify? We need those stomach contents so we can identify the source!" he urged, waving him out of the office. He turned to dial an old friend of his, a semi-retired fisherman on the Cape.

"Right, I'm on it!" Nigel turned and headed back toward the unfortunate Victor Morales, who had come into the morgue still clad in vacationer's garb only a few hours earlier. The bodies always held the answers, and if they didn't want any more deaths, they would need to find the answers more than quickly this time.

The moon was sifting through the cloudswherever it could, but the sky was still dark and sinister. Garret was almost emotionally bankrupt. Woody had taken a turn for the worse. An infection. It had crept up on Woody - on them all, really - causing some heart damage. There would be no second operation until the infection was gone and his heart was healed. And without that operation, Woody might not ever walk again. He knew what that must mean to the young detective.

And what he'd thought all along, he now knew for sure. Woody was deeply in love with Jordan. He had called out to her several times before he'd started to code, had reached out as if reaching for her. But she had not been there. Garret wondered if the heart damage was merely physical, but he had a feeling that, had Woody heard Jordan's voice instead of the voice of her father, and of him, he might have pulled through more than a little better. So now, regardless of how she'd been trying to hide her feelings about him for years, she'd have to confront them once and for all, because Woody would need her to get through all this, whichever way it went.

Jordan. It all came back to Jordan. She needed someone to put a boot to her cute little ass and get her to see what a stubborn fool she was - about Woody, about Max -- Hell, Max didn't even want Jordan to know he was back in town…What was with all the secrecy?

He used to think that Max probably had some good reason for not telling Jordan the whole truth, whatever it was. He had a feeling that Max may have been involved somehow in Emily's death - not that he believed he'd killed her. No, Max Cavanaugh had loved his wife…Garret would bet on that. But there was something odd - almost mysterious at times - in the way that he'd tap-danced through their relationship once Jordan had been old enough to do more than just ask questions.

He'd wanted to ask Max at the hospital, but they'd never been able to finish their conversation, which had left Garret more perplexed than before. I mean, where had he been all these months? Anyway, since Max was still not ready to see Jordan, it was up to Garret to tell her about Woody. Something he just did not want to do. There had been enough bad news going around…He glanced up wryly at the lonely sky -- would the clouds ever break?

He unlocked the door to his apartment, threw his overcoat onto the nearby coat rack and walked over to the side table where a decanter was waiting. He peeked into the ice bucket...No ice, just water. He poured himself some scotch…He liked it neat anyway. The day couldn't get any worse. But hadn't he been telling himself that all day?

The key turned in the lock and Jordan pushed the door open. She didn't bother to switch the light on, even though the weather cast an even deeper shadow in her apartment. What a long afternoon, she thought. Working with the FBI could be grueling. But at least she hadn't had too much time to think. Haley was going to call Slocum in the morning so she could assist with the case through its completion. It would be good to be out from under Slocum's watchful eye. He just rubbed her the wrong way.

Jordan brushed a wet lock of hair from her face and sighed. One of the undercover agents was just twenty, not even old enough to drink in many states. And now his body was lying on a surgical table awaiting further investigation. Life was short, she thought grimly. Too short. She wished she'd thought of that before….Like on her birthday, when the candles only served to remind her that so many years of her life were already shadows of the past.

Funny, she dealt with dead bodies every day, but she had never really stopped to face her own mortality. If she'd only realized it before, maybe she would have clung to the hope that love could be hers instead of throwing it away like yesterday's garbage...Well, maybe she hadn't gone quite that far. But in Woody's eyes, perhaps she had. If she just had been honest with her feelings, she would now be wearing the ring Woody had purchased for her birthday, she thought, running her index finger gently along the spot where she hoped the ring might someday sit.

She tossed the keys on the counter and looked in the refrigerator. Nothing but a carton of milk and some beer. She pulled the milk out and sniffed. Sour. She drained it down the sink and chucked the carton into the nearly overflowing garbage can. She opened the top drawer and sifted through two dozen take-out menus - free delivery of course.

Truthfully, she wasn't in the mood for anything. Nothing. She was worried. About Garret. About Cal. About work. Her mind circled around those things over and over, so that maybe she could rest awhile, so that her mind would not drift back to her main concern - Woody. She thought of the slain FBI agents, how their bodies were now lifeless and empty. It could have been Woody, she thought….God, it could have been Woody…

Jordan's thoughts were tumbling in her mind, swirling in black and white, with no room for gray. She didn't even want to think about him, about his harsh words to her in the hospital. He wanted her out of his life…Well, fine. If he really wanted that, maybe this time he'd really get it. But her stomach lurched at the thought. She'd never been able to completely cut the invisible string that tied her heart to his. Every time she'd thought she wanted something more, there had been some blessed interruption to save her from committing… An e-mail, a cell phone, a pager. Something. He had always begged her not to answer, not to run. But she had. She was afraid of…what? Something. Maybe the unknown. Maybe she didn't deserve to feel so happy, so normal. She'd always answered, ran…anything to get out from under his crystal blue eyes. If he had looked into them, he would've seen surrender. But she hadn't let him. And now look what that had gotten her. Well, maybe she didn't need him anyway…But was that even the truth anymore? She knew it wasn't.

It wasn't that she was unattractive, just unattract_ed. _She had noticed that afternoon how Haley's eyes raked over her from head to toe, the way he'd smiled in appreciation. No, it wasn't that she was unattractive. It was almost too funny, she thought dryly -- that she preferred Woody's boyish rugged and sculpted form to the handsome and sophisticated maturity of Agent Drew Haley.

The phone rang, it's tone sending a jolt through the silent apartment. "Jordan…If you're there, pick up." It was Lily's voice. "I really need to talk to you. It's important….Well, if you aren't home, maybe you could call later. Or stop in my office tomorrow? Please?…Well, okay….I, um…I will try to catch up with you at the hospital," then a definitive click. Poor Lily. She didn't know that Jordan was unwelcome at the hospital. But what did Lily need? Was she going to ask her about Garret? Well, she couldn't help with that right now when she could barely help herself. She didn't need to involve Lily in her hell right now.

It was better if she just handled things face-on for once, like Howard had recommended. She had that list, playing it over and over in her mind. She fully intended to take his advice. She wanted to get to the point where she could feel again. Absently, she picked up the phone and ordered Chinese, knowing she probably wouldn't even bother to eat it.

"Abby," Garret nodded as his daughter shoved her way past him in the hall. The _Boston Globe_ was tucked under her arm - the paper Max had been reading when he'd found him at the hospital. She lost no time whipping it out and slamming it hard on the table.

"What the hell is this!" she demanded. He grimaced. He really hadn't looked at it earlier, when Max had brought it up….Woody had started to code and there hadn't been time to ask. But now the front page screamed up at him. _Massachusetts CME Under Investigation for 20 Year Cover Up! _He should've known the press wouldn't waste any time. There had been one or two messages from the reporters before he'd gotten Jordan's call earlier. He shook his head. God, he should've known. They would try to dredge up everything they could find on him - which was, he thought, fortunately not much. Mainly this. That other thing, the one he'd dealt with when he was dating Renee and their relationship was ousted in court…Well, that was all that he could recall. That hadn't been unprofessional either, but when the attorney for the defense disclosed their relationship to the court, well….disaster. Conflict of interest. He hadn't acted wisely that time. Oh, wait. The time he'd failed to cut the body of a woman who had resembled Maggie…He racked his mind for anything else, but could think of nothing. He remembered every detail of every case, and he honestly could not think of anything else, which was maybe the first good thing he could think of - or had thought of - in days.

He calmly grabbed the paper and read the article - Abby waiting, tapping her toe nervously against the hardwood floor - while his mind weighed the facts against the artistic license that Gray Duval had taken with his name. He'd worked with Duval before and the man was a viper. They hadn't exactly been civil toward one another, and this article was proof that Duval still harbored some grudge against him from early in his career as the CME. Unfortunately, Duval had quite a following. Garret was sure the hero-worship of thousands of readers would cloud a lot of judgment and common sense, and if that was the case, the phones would've been ringing at the Governor's office all day. And every day until his suspension became permanent.

"Tell me it isn't true," Abby again demanded, as was her fashion. She looked at him, awaiting clarification. "Tell me that this is just some sick, twisted joke…That someone is just mad at you. That it's just political." She looked at him squarely. "Anything…."

But nothing was forthcoming. No nod, no flicker of any emotion. Garret had used that all up within the last 48 hours. And the realization dawned on her. "Oh my God! It's -- true!" she finally stammered. She glared at him. "All that crap you've been feeding me for years….About what a moral, truthful…." but Abby's litany was lost on Garret. His thoughts had gone - for the millionth time in the last few days - back to the conversation he'd had with his former boss. He'd been young then, finally finished medical school and new to the world encased in the morgue. Abby had just been born. He'd been so full of happiness, so full of hope for the future. And he was asked to disregard one piece of evidence. She'd never understand, he thought, looking at Abby. Hell, sometimes even _he_ didn't understand. But he knew he'd done it, in part, for her. To give her a good future. And now, here she was - his own flesh-and-blood daughter - yelling at him about, of all things, how embarrassed she was, how he had ruined _her_ life.

The weather in Boston was damn unpredictable, Slocum thought as he walked with his umbrella through the parking garage to the elevator. Apparently there was some code or another that was required and, not being able to figure out, he was forced to take the stairs. At least to the lobby. His forehead was beading with sweat by the time he arrived in his office, probably a combination of exertion coupled with the thick sweater he'd donned in expectation of another damp day. But glancing out of his window, he could see a thin layer of haze covering the early morning bustle of the city. It was going to be humid. Great, just great. He would need to remember to bring a change of clothes. It was impractical for him to race home at this hour. He'd not only end up stuck in volumes of traffic, but he'd lose the early morning edge he had by beating in most of the staff. And, he thought ruefully, he wouldn't be in time for his own meeting. Well, let's see who bothered to show today.


	6. It's Just My Heart Again

_**A/N: I am sorry for the long spell between posts, but after vacation things got crazy around here. I have two or three other chapters in the works already, so it shouldn't be too much of a break between posts. Also, I need to apologize for the scene switches...I have not found a way to delineate one from another...Everything I try to use gets cut off when the story actually posts, so if anyone has any ideas, please let me know! Thanks for the kind reviews, hope you're enjoying the story so far!**_

**PART VI - It's Just My Heart -- Again**

Jordan walked in to the morgue and made a beeline straight for the office of Jack Slocum, Acting Chief Medical Examiner. Haley was going to be late coming down to the morgue. She couldn't wait for him to get there and get her out. Maybe she could start sifting through the evidence in Garret's case while she waited. Now that it'd made the papers, she was sure the District Attorney's Office would call for a full investigation, and she wanted to be at least one step ahead of them.

She walked in to see Slocum sitting in a sweater -- on a hot, hazy day, of all things -- pouring over one of Garret's old autopsy cases. "I don't know why you're still on this witch hunt. Hasn't Garret suffered enough already?" she demanded. "Anyway….I'm here to take you up on your offer!" She tried to smile at him.

Slocum looked up from the report he was reviewing, which,he had foundmuch to his chagrin, appeared to be in perfect order. "Dr. Cavanaugh…Good morning to you too. It will be nice to have you join our mandatory morning meeting." His gaze did not waver as he watched her face for some show of rebellion. None was forthcoming. He would try provoking her, he thought, just to see if she was really going to let him. "Dr. Cavanaugh, I am merely after the truth. I thought that 'The Truth' was what you were all about. It seems that you're always in endless pursuit of the truth…. even when it gets you into a lot of unnecessary and unwelcome trouble," he pointed to her personnel file, behind him on top of a stack of others. "So…Exactly what _offer _are we talking about?"

"You said I could try to clear Garret - er, Doctor Macy," Jordan was direct. "If I could just review..."

Jack tried to hold back a grin, as if Jordan was a child asking the stupidly impossible. "Doctor Cavanaugh…After his _voluntary_ disclosure the other day, I'd say the case is closed."

"What!" Jordan exploded. "You mean you're not even going to let me review the file?"

He looked at her evenly. "For what purpose? Dr. Macy _confessed_ that he withheld material evidence in a case that turned out to be a homicide...I hardly think there's any merit in re-opening an investigation - at least not in _this_ office."

"You don't know Garret Macy…" Jordan started.

"Oh, on the contrary, doctor…I _do_. Besides the fact that we were once colleagues, I also attended medical school with Dr. Macy - he graduated several years behind my class. I have to say, though, that I don't remember looking at him in quite the same light you do. He used his friendship with the former DA to get this position - a position he never should have gotten, considering his flimsy tenure. And let's not forget the fact that he helped cover up a _murder_, for God's sake!"

"But…"

"Look, Doctor Cavanaugh…The _truth_ of the matter is that Dr. Macy grossly neglected his duties as a medical examiner and then went on to become the CME because of political associations…_that's_ the truth!" he barked.

"If you believe that, you don't know the first thing about Garret Macy!" Jordan spat back.

"I don't _need_ to know anything about him anymore. It was probably for the best that he turned in that evidence before it was discovered! It will at least save him the embarrassment of …"

"Are you going to use it against him if the DA investigates further?" Jordan interrupted.

"_If_? I think we're beyond that now, doctor…You know, there are some choice tidbits in your own personnel file that I'm sure the Governor would find more than interesting!" He paused, letting her think about things for a moment, almost laughing at her efforts to keep Garret up on that pedestal, then continued. "Don't you want the _truth_ to come out once and for all…or can't you handle it?"

Jordan looked at him in disbelief. Was he going to dig up every_thing _about every_one_? "Not if it means destroying the morgue family and the people I love!"

"I would hardly call this group of motley employees a family…" Jack interrupted her, a small, tight smile on his face.

"You don't know anything about this place, about these people…We've been through a hell of a lot together! We survive because we have each other…"

"Dr. Cavanaugh, spare me the dramatics," Slocum said, waving her out. "May I remind you that this is a _scientific institution_ -- You're just people who work together, for crying out loud. Get over it. What about the victim's family? Don't they deserve some modicum of justice!" Slocum demanded.

"Didn't they already get it?" Jordan shot back.

"No, they didn't..._Not all of it_. And they _should_ - you know it and I know it."

Jordan knew he was right. She turned and stormed out of Slocum's office, scattering a dozen employees trying to look as though they'd heard nothing when, in truth, they'd heard it all. "Get back to work!" Slocum yelled from the doorway, seeing the mulling crowd. "It's not a suggestion. Go! _Now_!" He went back to his desk and slammed his fist on its surface in frustration as he watched Jordan stomp down the hall into her office and bang the door shut.

-----

"Detective Hoyt? I'm Doctor Roberts…How're you holding up?" He didn't wait for Woody's reply but continued. "Look…we have to get this infection under control before we attempt that second operation. Everything on your chart looks great today so far. I'm hoping we can operate in the next three days. What I need is for you to keep calm, no stressing or anything. So….On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?" the young doctor finally paused.

"Ten," Woody choked out. Not get stressed? Who was this man kidding? "Ten," he said again, clutching at his abdomen while a cough escaped.

"Let me get you something for the pain, then, hmm? Meanwhile, rest. No worrying. Your body needs time to fight the infection, rest your heart...Then we can operate and you'll be on the fast road to recovery." He smiled and Woody gave him a doubtful look. "Well, the physical therapy will be a challenge, but I'm guessing you trained for your job, right? It shouldn't be too much more difficult. Anyway, after the operation, _you_ will determine how fast you get your life back to normal." The doctor reached over to quickly check Woody's vitals, scribbled hastily on his chart and started to leave. "I'll send a nurse in with something for the pain. Get some rest." With that, he was gone.

-----

"Ah, Doctor Jack Slocum, is it?" a little bald-headed man asked from the doorway.

Slocum raised his head slightly, only glancing up from the file momentarily. "And you are?"

"Howard Stiles. State psychologist." He held out his hand in greeting, but Slocum ignored it.

"What can I do for you? Are you here to see one of my MEs? A criminalist,forensic entomologist?" Jack tried pleasantly, frustrated at the interruption.

"Actually, I'm here to see _you_. By request of the Governor."

Jack's browns knit together in frustration. "Bob sent you to see _me_? That man's insane…."

Stiles grinned. "Don't worry, I'll overlook the pun."

"Is this some kind of joke? Look, I don't have time for this right now, Doctor Stiles. I have a morgue to run!"

Howard craned his neck to glance at the files behind Slocum, piled high on top of the credenza. "I see…You have quite a bit of paperwork to sift through -- Have there been that many bodies in the morgue within the last week? Is it an epidemic or something?" Stiles indicated the seemingly thousands of folders piled in the office. "Maybe I should have stayed in the Keys another week..." he mused.

"Of course there's no epidemic!" Jack sputtered.

"Then what's with all the folders?" Stiles picked one up, opened it and read. "Oh…I see Garret Macy was the medical examiner who signed off on this case…Seven years ago,huh. Is there new evidence? It says here Mr. Benner died of a heart attack seven years ago…" Stiles lowered the file briefly. "Hmmm. I like the chance to play detective once in a while…Did the wife poison him? Lots of insurance money involved?"

"I'm just reviewing a few of Dr. Macy's prior cases."

Stiles nodded. "So I see….For what purpose, may I ask?"

Slocum rubbed his temples, trying to ignore the man's persistent questions.

"Headache? Stress? Stress will do that to you…Cause pressure at your…"

"I'm well aware of what stress will do to me, doctor. Could we possibly reschedule this interview for another day? You can speak with my receptionist, Ms. Lebowski, on the way out." Jack waved him toward the door.

"Ms. Lebowski? I thought she was the Grief Counselor…Hmmm. Interesting. Anyway, you're due for your yearly evaluation."

Slocum finally cracked, slamming his fist hard on the desk for the second time that morning and causing some of the precariously positioned folders to topple. Papers scattered all over the floor. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave -- now!"

Howard bent to try to retrieve some of the papers. "You seem pretty angry for someone with a lucrative new position." He handed several files, paperwork jammed in, back to Slocum, who grabbed at them angrily.

"I repeat, get out now! I have a lot of work to do."

Stiles righted himself, abandoning the file he had started to gather up. "Suit yourself. Expect a call from the Governor though."

"I'm sure Bob has more important…

"Bob? Oh -- you mean the _Governor_. Well, if you remember my saying so, it was at his request that I showed up on your door. Don't shoot the messenger, you know!" Stiles grinned wickedly. "Maybe you'll feel better in a day or two and we can talk then!" he hastily left the room before Jack Slocum could say anything else.

-----

Garret was walking down the hall toward the hospital's elevators when he heard a familiar voice. "Hey, Garret." It was Lily, walking briskly to catch up with him.

He paused, not sure if he was ready to see any of the employees of his staff…_His former staff_, he reminded himself. But he turned toward her with a pleasant smile, as if nothing had changed so drastically in the last week. "Hi, Lily."

"I'm just, uh…"

"On your way to check on Woody? Me too. Jordan called and left a dozen messages within the last day or so, and since I don't have anything pressing going on…" he faltered. "I guess she's busy with work…"

"Garret, I'm so sorry - about the job…about us…about a lot of things. I just find it so hard to believe that you…" but the elevator doors opened and they moved apart to let several people out before they stepped into it. Lily pressed a button and waited for the doors to close before continuing. "I just…things are so - _different_ - at the morgue now." Garret nodded, seeming to care less, but Lily called him on it. "Why, Garret? _Why_?" she half-demanded, half-pleaded. She needed an answer, he knew. He figured they all did, his employees, colleagues -- his _friends_.

He looked into her eyes. "It's -- complicated." The elevator stopped, and she didn't know what to say. He sensed her disappointment and frustration. "Look, we'll get coffee after…"

"Fine," she said shortly. She walked out of the elevator ahead of him and started down the hall toward Woody's room.

-----

"I found the results from Mr. Morales' stomach contents!" Sidney exclaimed, coming into the room where Nigel sat at his desk. "Not only that, but I tracked down the restaurant as well…It seems….Hey, you listening?"

Nigel was hoping to surprise Jordan by tracking down one elusive Calvin Coolidge Hoyt, but he was having no luck.

Sidney crept up behind Nigel, waving a paper in front of his nose. "Say it!" he commanded, but Nigel was glued to the screen in front of him, his fingers busily chipping away at the keyboard. Sidney attempted to get a rise out of Nigel once again. "C'mon, just say it! Admit it, I'm brilliant!"

"What was that?" he asked distractedly, finally looking up to see Sidney's perturbed countenance.

"Uh-uh…No way." Sidney held the paper just out of Nigel's reach and pulled it back slightly when Nigel reached for it.

Nigel snorted. "If I stretch, I can get it from you with no problem! C'mon, mate - what have we got?"

Sidney wouldn't let his moment of glory slip by. "Say 'Sidney, you _are_ the man!' and it's all yours!" he tried.

"Look, mate…I've got pictures of one Doctor Sidney - what's your last name? - at the last Christmas party, pretty shnockered …"

"Nigel, _everyone_ who works here was there - everyone already saw me drunk as a skunk -- a rarity, I might add -- ergo your blackmail has no effect…"

Nigel paused a moment. "Unless…" he posed.

"Unless what?"

"Unless I send those rather risqué photographs to one cute little nurse at Boston University Hospital…" Nigel threatened.

Sidney paled slightly. "Fine - spoil my fun!" He handed off the sheet to Nigel and stormed out of the room before Nigel had a chance to say anything further, his good mood ruined by Nigel's unwillingness to play his ego up a bit.

"Well, well…" Nigel whispered. "Sidney - you _are_ the man!" he tried to call, but Sidney wasn't there to benefit from the praise. Nigel rose to go track down the acting CME.

It was lunch time and Jordan was more than a little frustrated at Haley. She was still stuck at the morgue, trying to hide out from Slocum in her office. She'd tried to finish up some paperwork before he confronted her about it - paperwork not being one of her strong points and one of the things that could really get her into trouble with Slocum, he was such a stickler for the rules.

She wondered if she should try visiting Woody, but he surely didn't need the stress that would bring. Garret had left a message on her office voice mail about his infection and about the heart damage. She laughed to herself, bitterly, thinking of how she'd once wanted to be a heart surgeon more than anything. She might have been the one assigned to his case now, monitoring his progress, not knowing anything about him at all except for what his chart said. It was funny how life could take a small turn and change everything…

God, where was Haley? She needed to get out of the morgue…

-----

Woody heard the door creak open and slowly opened his eyes. "Doc, Lily…hi," he said weakly. "I didn't expect company today."

"Hey, if you're too tired, we'll go - let you get your rest…" Lily said with concern.

"No…No. I'm actually a little -- bored." He clutched at his abdomen as he coughed. "It gets a little too quiet for me. So…What's new with both of you? How're things at the morgue?" he attempted.

Lily and Garret exchanged looks, not sure how much Woody remembered from the day or two prior to his being shot.

"Uh, we have an outbreak of Red Tide Algae on the New England Coast," Lily offered lamely.

Woody looked puzzled. "What's that?"

"Nothing important enough for you to worry about," Garret assured him. "Need anything?"

_Yeah, I need my legs to work again, need to be back on the job...need to know why Jordan said all of those things…_Woody thought, but he kept those thoughts to himself and just shook his head. "I'm fine for now…The nurse just gave me some pain medication and I'll probably be asleep and lousy company before you know it." He tried to grin, but grimaced with pain instead. Lily and Garret looked at each other, thinking that maybe they should just exit gracefully and come back a little later, Lily curious about what Garret had to say.

Garret cleared his throat. "Listen, we all care about you - me, Lily, Bug, Nigel, Jordan…"

"Jordan? Yeah, right!" Woody's voice dripped with venom, but his skin had paled considerably.

"Hey, you know Jordan cares about you," Lily began, but the young detective was shaking his head.

He carefully raised himself up to a sitting position, setting a pillow against his stomach to help ease the pain. "No…She doesn't," he said flatly. "I'm so tired of being just her friend, and now I definitely don't need - or want - her pity!" his voice was full of emotion.

Garret frowned at the young man. "She was here the whole time you were in surgery…I'm sure if she wasn't busy at work, she'd still be here…"

"She'll probably pop in after she and Agent Haley finish up," Lily added brightly. Garret looked at her in surprise, but held his tongue. He'd have to ask about Haley later…That name did bring back memories. Unpleasant ones mostly.

"No, she won't. She isn't coming back," he said, his voice void of the emotions that were playing across his face.

"Why would you think that?" Garret asked. "I know Jordan has her problems, but one thing she is -- and that's loyal to the people she cares about…She'll be back, if I know anything about her."

Woody swallowed. "I…I told her not to come back. I just can't deal with her rejection right now…Not when I might never walk again…It's just too much." He sighed and rested back on the pillows.

"Woody, the doctors have said you have more than a fifty percent chance of walking again," Garret reminded him. Woody didn't look very hopeful.

"Please…" Lily pleaded. "Please...You don't understand a lot of things about Jordan…about what's been going on," she shot Garret a meaningful look before she continued. "She _trusts _you…She _loves _you…"

Woody interrupted her, a frown spreading across his face. "Yeah, she was so in love with me that she was going on a _date_ that Friday. A blind date _you_ set her up with." He looked at Lily accusingly, then, unable to hold in his curiosity any longer, he blurted, "Well? Did she still go!" He choked out the words, followed by a cough, and gripped his abdomen, pain spreading across his face.

"What are you talking about? What date?" Lily was truly clueless. She and Garret exchanged glances. Garret shrugged.

Woody continued. "We were jogging and…You set her up on a blind date for the Patty Griffin concert…" he pointed at Lily.

Lily gave a rueful laugh. "I never set her up on any date, Woody. Jordan hasn't dated in a long time. She _is-in-love-with-you_…" Lily stressed each syllable, trying to let it sink in.

Garret nodded. "She cried the whole time you were in surgery. I've never seen her so…"

"How come she told me you set her up on a date when I asked her to the concert?" Woody interrupted, bolting upright in the bed and wincing in pain, trying to ignore what Doctor Macy was trying to say. He remembered Jordan's pleading with him as he was being rushed into surgery…All the words, the tears. He didn't need them to tell him that Jordan had been there. He didn't even wonder whether or not she'd said those words -- those pretty, wonderful things that still haunted him. It was why she had bothered that was tormenting him.

"Well, considering that you told her you wanted to move on…." Lily started.

"Hey!" Woody interrupted. "How did you know that!"

"She told me. She said you wanted to be friends…That you both should move on…Is that what you told her?" Woody looked down at the bed, his face canvassed with guilt. Lily continued. "Maybe I _should_ have set her up with one of my friends. She could've used a break from work -- especially now. But, you know…I _didn't_. I really didn't. We all knew how she felt about you, even if she wasn't admitting it to herself." Lily gently touched Woody's arm.

"Hmmm…Maybe she told you that because she was trying to save face," Garret surmised. "Why? What does it matter now, Detective? Didn't you really _want_ her to move on?" He eyed Woody, trying to gauge his response.

Woody looked down sheepishly, then turned to them both. "No," he said softly. "No, I didn't." His chest hurt, but it was not another heart attack. It was heart break...


	7. Disappear

**A/N: _I had a nasty little computer virus that required me to restore my hard-drive...Thank goodness I had a hard copy of the next few chapters, but it still takes time to type them - and I don't always have a lot of time! Sorry for the delay, barring no more computer misfortune I should be ahead of myself as far as updating this story. Hope you enjoy it, and please keep reviewing! I appreciate the comments and suggestions!_**

_**------------------------------**_

**PART VII - Disappear**

Jordan leafed through the mail absentmindedly as she unlocked the door to her apartment. She kicked off her shoes and wandered toward the kitchen. Not only was she finally hungry, having not eaten at all through the day - she was exhausted to boot. A good thing, she thought. Being busy was a good thing. It kept her thoughts from herself, from her own lonely, pathetic….She groaned. _I'm doing it again_, she thought. She pulled the last beer from her bare refrigerator, feeling like Old Mother Hubbard...But she didn't even have a dog.

The blinking red light on her answering machine made her change direction. A message from Garret. Woody was doing okay, maybe she should visit. Jordan sighed. If Garret only knew. She felt an angry tear start to trail down her cheek. It didn't have to be this way, so complicated. But it was. She wanted to talk to Woody, but Garret's message had made her think twice about it. If he was doing well, she reasoned, maybe seeing her would be more of a setback. He needed that second surgery if he was to ever have the use of his legs again. She knew that Woody would not want to lose the life he'd had. He had so much vibrant energy, was so damn good at his job…Surely he'd recover, right?

Maybe, for once, she would try prayer…He was the only reason she would even consider it…She'd felt so isolated from the Catholic church since grammar school when she'd overheard several of the priests discussing her father's situation. They'd made her feel like a burden, a charity. She'd hated that. It wasn't that she hadn't tried to fit in, to be the polite, soft-spoken little Irish-Catholic girl that they expected…But despite her valiant efforts, she'd come to realize that it just wasn't in her nature to be demure and soft-spoken. Whether or not that had to do with her mother's death was anyone's guess. But it had made her an outsider early on. If it hadn't been for the few people she'd considered her real, true friends, Jordan would not have survived the institution. And then her friend, Cindy, had gotten pregnant…And Jordan had managed, after much pleading, to convince Cindy to talk to Sister Barbara with disastrous consequences - Sister Barbara ratted her out, she'd run away and her unborn child had died…All that had done was make Jordan distrustful of the help she could expect from the priests and the nuns. And then, to fall in love finally - to trust that she was normal in some way - and then have Paul decide that he wanted to become, of all things, a priest! -- like one of the old, stodgy men she'd heard criticize her and her father and whisper their disapproval…Well, it was not hard to see why her attendance at mass was far from perfect. But since Woody'd been shot, her thoughts - if not yet her lips - had turned to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, God would listen to her prayers...

She waited when the message was done, hoping that Haley had returned one of her many calls, but there was nothing. She decided that she _did_ need to see Woody…Maybe she could just try again. It wasn't as if he'd been totally coherent that day he'd thrown her out. She would just tidy herself up and go. She walked toward the bathroom, throwing aside the case file from her big FBI investigation of the previous afternoon carelessly as if it didn't matter - and since Haley hadn't bothered to call her, she reasoned, maybe it didn't.

-----

Garret was sitting across from Lily, trying to gauge her response. He had finally broken down and told her about the whole cover-up...How it had not been his idea, but more or less an order from a still-unnamed higher-up…No need to bring anyone else into the situation, he thought, nursing a scotch. Somehow, though, he was sure Lily's sense of justice - or injustice, depending on one's perspective of things - would surface and she would want him to at least give some effort toward getting his job back.

The staff hated Slocum. He knew they would. Jack was one hell of a task-master…And no one else would be so "by the book" as he would be either…Even Grace Yukora had a few soft spots in that shell of armor she'd donned every day to perform her job. And he had to admit that, although he missed his friends and his responsibilities - hell, even the satisfaction of solving a case - he did _not_ miss the politics. Not at all. He didn't play very well to the various agents and agencies that were always there to remind him how to do his job, how they were "all on the same team", how he had to keep his staff under control...It had been statements like that that had pushed Garret out of his own office to begin with. If anything, the Moreau case had, early in his career, given him a strong desire to seek the truth above all things in every other case that had been handed to him over the years, and he'd done more than a stellar job of insuring that his staff at the morgue followed that protocol before anything else - even if it had pissed off a DA or a governor or two.

He looked at Lily again. She was still silent, toying with her glass. "I don't know what to say," he finally blurted to try to erase the uncomfortable silence between them.

"It's…it's okay, Garret. I - I understand," she lied. If the cover-up was not his fault, then why had he just given up so easily? Why wouldn't he fight for his job?

-----

Jordan ran a brush through her hair and exited the screaming silence of her apartment. Even before she pulled into the hospital's parking garage, she had already gotten cold feet. She hoped that Woody was either too sleepy or too drugged to notice her presence. That way, she could easily just peek in -- to assure herself that he was going to be okay. And to see him again. Well, maybe there would be other visitors…Surely he wouldn't dismiss her in front of their friends and acquaintances? She just had to see him for herself, to make sure he was alright.

She'd tried Garret's cell several times to get a little fatherly advice, but she had not gotten an answer. If she hadn't known him better, she would have thought he'd left Massachusetts altogether. But that was more her usual style, she thought with a tearful smile, and had it not been that she'd finally come to terms with her feelings for Woody, she probably would have bolted….It would be so easy to run, she thought. Just like before. No more Slocum, no more pressure, no more silence. She still didn't understand what had happened between her and her father, and she wasn't about to try to figure out what had happened between her and Garret. Her mind was so full, so fragile, she almost couldn't even bring herself to believe that she should stay, but she wanted Woody to know - to really _know_ - that she had meant what she had said. And leaving would just reinforce that she had not, at least in his mind. So she brushed the idea of bolting far away and tried to bring her thoughts back to the present and what she would say to him next if she had the chance.

The vehicle wound through the parking garage and finally she found an empty slot. She parked carefully near an elevator door and turned the engine off, then waited, the demons of her mind whispering and tormenting her with a thousand ugly thoughts -- rejection the strongest of any of them. And so, after about twenty minutes of indecision, instead of exiting the vehicle she flipped her cell open and maneuvered to get a signal, then dialed, hoping that he would pick up.

-----

Cal stood outside Jordan's apartment, wondering whether it would do any good to knock. He liked Jordan, truly he did. She was exactly what his brother needed. But it really bothered him, if he thought about it, that Jordan had Woody's affection more than his own flesh and blood….That had _never_ happened before. Not with aunts, uncles, buddies from school, prom dates…not even with the girl Woody'd wanted to marry in Kewaunee. Woody's affection had always been his, first and foremost. He had always been the big brother, taking care of his little brother. But when he had put Jordan's life in danger, Woody had turned on him completely. And now Cal wasn't sure how to handle it.

He remembered what Woody had said the last time he'd seen his brother, about coming for Jordan and not - for once - for him. It had sliced through him like a knife, a deep-seated rejection that stunned him and surprised him. And so he'd gone without a word. Actually, for the first time in his life, Cal had tried desparately to clean up his act. Really, really tried. He'd been successful for first a few days, then the days had turned into weeks and now he had several months behind him…Months of living the "right" way…And Woody would have been so proud of him. And maybe Jordan could help him show Woody how really changed he was.

But now Woody was in a hospital bed. Cal found himself wondering what to do. For once, it wasn't him in trouble. It was Woody. The big brother. The protector. The dependable one. Shot. Maybe not able to walk ever again. God, he'd need a lot of help to get him through it all, whether or not he recovered the use of his legs. And Cal was afraid for his brother for almost the first time in his life…He realized that Woody was not superhuman after all….He was alive and vulnerable and not some super-hero with super powers that could never die. Maybe, Cal thought, he wasn't ready to see his brother just yet. He turned and fled down the stairs, leaving no clue that he'd ever been around.

-----

When Jordan returned home, she was more than agitated. Woody had obviously instructed the nurses to block her calls. And she had been too tired and too emotionally drained to attempt to go inside. Not to mention, her cell phone had been silent all night. No Haley, no Cal, no Garret…She couldn't reach anyone she needed to talk to! No messages on the machine either, she noted grimly, staring at the red light that was not, for once, blinking madly. She swept her arm angrily across the counter, scattering the file she'd been working on. Several papers tumbled to the floor, the handwriting not her own familiar scribble. Damn, Jordan thought, she must've taken Agent Haley's file by mistake. The realization made her confused. He had to know he had the wrong file...and yet he still hadn't called. She bent to pick up the scattered papers and stopped cold. Something…familiar...unwelcome…had fallen out of the file. _Where did this come from?_ she thought frantically, a chill running down her spine.

-----

It was 4:00 a.m. and Jordan's bed and closet were ripped apart, her clothes packed haphazardly in a large suitcase. She stood in the doorway of the room, staring at it. It would be so easy to run, she thought. Just like before. I can pick up and just leave. That one piece of paper…She just couldn't get it out of her mind. She'd wanted to rip it apart, shred it in an attempt to believe that it had never been real. Haley had been keeping tabs on her, she knew that much from their dinner. But what she had not known was that he had also been keeping tabs on her father...and her brother...And the revelation of what that paper held, the secrets that she had been unable to discover, made her finally snap.

Her eyes were drawn and heavy. She hadn't slept at all. Her mind kept racing through moments of her past, from the day she had walked in to find her mother dead, her father in handcuffs, and finally back to the hospital, when Woody had ordered her out of his life. It hurt. It hurt more than her father's absence from her life, more than Garret's unexpected suppression of key evidence in a case. Why did it hurt so much? She wondered if it was because she'd finally done it - let her guard down, become vulnerable…a sign of weakness she'd been running from all her life. She needed him. _Especially now_. And this time he would not be there. Why? Her mind played back their relationship over and over. She had finally wanted to make it right, but nothing was right anymore. Was it her lot in life, to always be alone? She didn't know. She just knew she hadn't hurt this badly for years. And now there was absolutely no chance she could make things right - not with anyone…That piece of paper - it had ruined all her hopes and dreams. A deep, dark sense of fear and panic rose up within her again, and she tried to still herself, to take a deep breath and forget what a mess she was in.

As she leaned against the door jamb she found herself thinking back again to the day her mother had died. The thoughts came, unbidden, but rapid and real. She was a little girl again, racing into the house to see blood…that shade of red - there had never been anything like it again except in her dreams. But now it swirled all around her and she slumped down onto the floor, the exhaustion finally overtaking her, her suitcase still open on the bed.

-----

Woody's eyes fluttered open in a panic. He'd had a dream…a very bad dream. Cal had been in it, and Jordan and Max. And his shooter…that young boy who had possibly changed his life forever. He tried to take deep breaths and relax so that the surgery would stay on track for now. Everything depended on it. He wasn't about to try to resolve things with Jordan if he couldn't be there to take care of her. He knew that if he lost the use of his legs, he'd feel like less than a man, and he'd always feel that he was cheating her out of a normal relationship. But that wasn't all…His dreams had given him a strong sense of foreboding…like Jordan was in trouble. Which was nothing new, he tried to remind himself. But the ill feeling that crept through him was stronger than ever and he couldn't easily dismiss the fact that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. And this time he was unable to help. He needed his legs. He punched the tray beside his bed in anger and frustration, knocking it over with a crash and scattering a pitcher full of ice water and two of his most recent notepads where he'd been trying to jot down what he could remember about his most pressing cases for Detective Framus and Detective Seeley to go over. Helpless. He hated it.

The nurse came rushing in. "Everything okay in here?" He nodded, but she looked at him skeptically. "You need anything? You know I'll have to send housekeeping to get this mess cleaned up," she scolded and left the room in a huff.

But Woody was thinking about his dream and about Lily's revelation from the previous day and Garret's confirmation of Jordan's feelings. They had made him feel so helpless. He had been stupid - God, so stupid! He'd told her to go, practically threw her out of his room. Jordan, who had such a hard time opening up - let alone admitting and confiding her love - to anyone, and he'd just been too blind and angry and proud to realize that she'd been telling him the truth. He hoped and prayed that he could fix things once and for all this time around, but maybe now it would be too late. He couldn't shake the dream. Maybe he should call Nigel and ask him to check on her, he thought, stretching out for the phone and swearing at the pain.

-----

Jordan woke up on the floor, her head swimming. She saw her ransacked room and shook her head. It couldn't be true, she thought. But it was…and even Drew knew. The realization of it all dawned on her. She knew that she needed to work on her many issues, and she truly wanted to sort things out and get - _right _- with everyone. But things had taken a definite turn. And she knew she would need to leave Boston after all. For a moment, she felt the stabbing pangs of regret. Woody. He would never understand. But she hastily scribbled a note for him - her eyes tearing as she wrote her wishes for his recovery and then, finally, her goodbyes - then grabbed her keys, the locket her mother had given her, her rosaries from Max and her suitcase and prayed she could get out of Charlestown - and Boston - before anyone knew she was missing. Everything - everyone she loved - depended on it.

-----

After about an hour of dictation, sorting through messages and signing requisitions, Slocum rose from his desk. It was another twenty minutes before the staff meeting, but he was restless. He looked at the top two phone messages on his desk. "Uh, Dr….Ah, Dr. Slocum?" came a timid voice. It was Emmy, the receptionist. "Um…Dr. Cavanaugh left a message. She's taking a sick day today." Emmy swallowed and waited. "Um…"

"Hmm?" Slocum was reading the phone messages, weighing them in each hand. Should he call the governor first? Call Gray Duval for a comment? Or should he just pretend Garret Macy had never given him anything that would force him to drag the former ME's name through the mud? He wondered - not for the first time - why Bob had sent him. Well, he'd reviewed dozens of the files Ms. Lebowski had toppled on his desk, and so far there really hadn't been any inconsistencies in Doctor Macy's work…It seemed he had only been unprofessional when it came to the staff. Which brought him straight to the matter at hand…the absence of Doctor Cavanaugh for yet another staff meeting. The others would start to mimic her insubordination. He was not ready to deal with this, he thought, looking at the clock. "Well, does she have any sick days unused?" he asked, clearly agitated.

"Uh, you have the file, sir…It would be right on the inside left of the file. On top. Next to salary there's a spot for number of vacation days, sick days, personal days…You can see how many are unused. I imagine it's quite a lot…Dr. Cavanaugh _rarely_ gets sick. And she almost _never_ takes vacation," Emmy said, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Fine, thanks," Slocum said, dismissing her. But she lingered in the doorway, hesitating.

"Uh, sir? There are two gentlemen to see you in the conference room. They don't look so happy."

Great. Notifications? Press? Someone from the Governor's Office? He wasn't ready to deal with all that just yet, but he nodded to Emmy. He needed to be steel in front of the employees, letting nothing ruffle him. "Just show them into my office, okay?"

Emmy looked at him, wondering if she should voice concern. "Um, they're kind of…Well, are you _sure_?"

He nodded at her. Kind of what? These people were all so suspicious. It made his head swim when he thought about everything neatly tucked away in their personnel files, files that he had reviewed meticulously. Emmy was still standing in the doorway. "Please, show the gentlemen in. That's not a pleasantry, it's an order," he called as she finally, and quite reluctantly, left the room to retrieve the men. He rubbed at his temples. Another long day, and it was only just beginning. And now Doctor Cavanaugh would be gone for how many days? He would have to check over that personnel file. There was no way he would let her take more than she was entitled to - for vacation or sick or personal days. He needed her at the office. If she was unwilling to be a productive employee, well...She could find a job elsewhere. At least that'd be how he would threaten her. He smiled at the thought, thinking to bend the situation so he was still in control, and stacked the messages neatly next to the phone while he waited for Emmy and the two gentelemen to arrive.

-----

'Dr. Mahesh Vijayaraghavensatyanaryanamurthy' the desk plate read. Jack Slocum looked at it. No wonder the nickname, he thought. "Um, Doctor Mahesh…Bug?" he began.

Bug glanced over his shoulder, a magnifying glass in one hand and a leaf in another. He gently set the leaf down in a glass aquarium-type tank, slowly and deliberately, before he turned around. "Yes?" He was slightly amused that Slocum hadn't been able to pronounce his name…Lily, Nigel - hell, even Doctor Macy - had learned it. It was downright unprofessional of Slocum.

"I wondered if you and Dr. Cavanaugh had finished up the autopsies from late afternoon the day before yesterday? The bodies found outside the bar, near Fenway Park? I have a few men in my office who are rather anxious for the results…I wondered if you had any idea what I should tell them about the case? When can the bodies be released to the FBI? I assume we had jurisdiction."

"What do you mean?" Bug's surprise was evident. Agent Haley was capable of relaying information to his fellow agents. Besides, Jordan had been with him and the FBI would have had all the results already.

"Did I speak too fast for you, Doctor?" Slocum mocked, and Bug glowered at the almost racial slur. "I said, there are two agents in my office waiting for the results of the two autopsies you did the other day, in the afternoon. The day before yesterday. The _undercover agents_?" Jack's patience was wearing thin. He hated the FBI, and he hated the fact that there were now two agents in his office looking for results that should have already been provided to them, and he _absolutely_ hated the fact that he knew nothing about the case and looked stupid in front of them.

"I…" Bug swallowed, no comment forthcoming. He looked surprised.

"You _did_ do the autopsies? You _did_ respond to the call with Dr. Cavanaugh?" Slocum's voice was low, almost a growl. He felt his head throbbing and his throat start to go dry.

Bug was dumbfounded. "Actually, er…No."

Slocum saw the confusion play over Bug's face and felt panic start to rise in his own chest. "No, you didn't respond…Or no, you didn't do the autopsies?" He thought he'd assigned them both. Maybe he'd overlooked it while going over the personnel files? That would be a costly mistake. He had to gain control, and he did what came naturally..."Are you that _incompetent_! I spoke with you _directly_ about them...Did you think that just because I'm not Dr. Garret Macy that you could completely disregard me! Don't you value your job at all! This office _will_ be run in a professional manner…If Dr. Macy had bothered to run it properly…"

But Bug interrupted his tirade. "I _did_ respond. Jor…Doctor Cavanaugh and I _both_ responded. We were there first, and then the Feds…"

"You mean the FBI agents? Let's show some respect for them, shall we?" Jack interrupted. He was beginning to worry that Doctor Cavanaugh had not done her job and that her absence today was the product of a cover up. Insubordination. Maybe she was trying to torment him, goad him into resigning. Well, he'd have a warning typed and on her desk before the afternoon was out, he thought, a deep, angry frown spreading across his face. "So, if you didn't finish the autopsies, drag them out of the crypt now and get to work -- Pull Doctor Townsend if you must…Doctor Cavanaugh is out _sick_ today - how convenient for her!"

"Doctor Cavanaugh was down at their temporary headquarters day before yesterday - and all day yesterday - assisting Agent Drew Haley," Bug insisted, then told Slocum slowly, "_They_ have both of the bodies. They should…"

"You must be mistaken…Doctor Cavanaugh was _here_ all day yesterday," Slocum started. "Wait…They already _have_ the bodies? Then _why_ are they waiting in my office for answers!" he demanded, feeling what must have been his blood pressure rising. "And _who_ is Agent Haley? He's not one of the agents down here...What the hell is going on!"

Bug had no answer. Oh God…What had happened to Agent Haley? And more importantly, he thought, swallowing hard, what had happened to Jordan? He swallowed again, his throat suddenly dry. It wasn't like her to take a sick day -- not even if she was actually sick. Dr. Macy'd had to practically throw her out of the morgue to get her away from her cases. What in the world was going on?


	8. Missing Persons

_**A/N: The usual disclaimer. **_

_**I hope that you are all enjoying this story line. I have a great beginning, most of the end...It's just getting from A to C, so please be patient. As always, please read and review!**_

**-----**

**PART VIII - Missing Persons**

Cal watched from the shadows as Jordan raced down the street in the early hours just before the sun started to peek above Boston. She was carrying a suitcase, but she was in too much of a hurry to be going on a vacation. She didn't make a move toward her El Camino, parked along the street opposite of where Cal was standing, and she was not, apparently, waiting for a taxi. Where was she going?

He'd been back and forth about seeing her all night, wondering if he should interfere, wondering if she would welcome him after their last disastrous meeting, and finally figured he would just - what? Wait? Once he'd been brave enough to walk down to Pearle Street, he'd tossed it about in his mind that Jordan was very likeable and of course she would help him get into Woody's good graces again. Now, as he saw her running down the street, he was starting to think that something was a little more than wrong.

Cal had been in many situations in his life where he'd had to scramble out of somewhere fast, whether it was from a relationship getting too serious or too sour -- or when he was running for his life. He didn't know Jordan well, but he did know that she cared about his brother - that she was in love with him, whether or not she realized it - and it didn't seem to him that she would ever abandon Woody in his obvious hour of need. So where was she going? Maybe if he followed her…

He took a step toward the corner she'd just rounded when he caught a shadowy glimpse out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and turned to see a man hovering near Jordan's El Camino. What was _he_ doing?

-----

Drew Haley moaned and attempted to turn his head to the side, but he was in too much pain. He tried to raise an arm to assess the situation, but found that his arms were tied together. He tasted blood on his lip, and figured that it was a lot worse than just his lip. He couldn't remember too much, just that he'd been in Boston, looking into the disappearances of two undercover agents, when he'd discovered that they'd been shot. He racked his brain, trying to put the rest of the pieces of this puzzle together. Let's see…Jordan Cavanaugh had been the ME on the case. He smiled in remembrance. They'd taken the bodies to the temporary headquarters and then, after a late night, shared an even later dinner…

The ME had changed a little, seemed - softer. But she'd been obviously distracted and they'd ended the night differently than he would have liked. He closed his eyes, starting to feel the effects of what he guessed was some type of date-rape drug, and his thoughts were hastily brought back to the present.

What had happened to his agents? He and Jordan had only done some preliminary work, saving the tox and trace for the next day. After making sure the evidence and the bodies were secure, they'd left the site and he wondered if they had been followed. He had been too caught up with the stunning company of his favorite ME and hadn't been as aware of his surroundings as he normally was…In fact, he figured that he'd kept his guard down since he'd seen Jordan at the scene. He cursed softly, his mouth swollen and his jaw stiff. How long had he been lying here? And what about his agents?

Miranda Sweeney and Chalrie Parker and Carlos Vega had all been undercover to try to bust a drug cartel in Boston, but Parker and Vega were dead and Sweeney was missing. He hadn't even told Jordan about Miranda, hoping that any clues that surfaced from Parker's and Vega's bodies would lead them to her, but he was beginning to think that had been a foolish and costly mistake. Now he was captive who-knew-where and Sweeney's life was in grave danger, and no one else besides his chief even knew she was missing…

Did anyone know _he_ was missing, Drew wondered, before sinking back into a restless and painful sleep.

-----

"Come, come, Ms. Lebowski. Surely you are not going to complain about getting a few files for me." Slocum was irritated with Jordan. He couldn't find anything on her, let alone her notes from her last case, and the agents were waiting. He was losing control, and he did not like it. Surely this thing couldn't get to Bob that fast? He wondered if he wouldn't be joining Doctor Macy on the unemployment line if this case made him look bad…which it was already starting to do.

"Look, I've already given you all the personnel files, all 5,003 of Doctor Macy's autopsy files, all of God-knows-how-many of Doctor Cavanaugh's files….What more could you possibly need? There isn't enough time between now and hell freezing over for you to read each and every one!" Lily smiled smugly, looking over the cluttered towers of files at Slocum, who was skimming notes from one of Jordan's most recent cases.

"Ms. Lebowski, I'm going to overlook that remark for now. I _can_ certainly go through each file and I _will_. This office is about justice, about science -- about using science to bring about justice. For us to find justice for victims who have died under mysterious circumstances….Or maybe not. Maybe victims died tragically from natural circumstance. But it's our job to clarify that for those families who have questions. To assist the police and the DA - and, when necessary, the FBI," he said, indicating the two men waiting in the conference room across from his office. "…to make the best summation of what happened to those victims. We should not just _guess_, Ms. Lebowski. We should present clear cut evidence to the legal bodies to pursue whatever justice needs to be pursued. Don't you think Silvia Moreau suffered when she died? Don't you think that her family suffered, believing all this time that she committed suicide when, in fact, she was murdered? Don't you think that entitles them to some justice? Aren't all victims entitled to some justice, Ms. Lebowski?"

"Of course. I wasn't aware that we were back on Doctor Macy's case… I thought it was Doctor Cavanaugh you were concerned about. So I'm all for justice, but you should make sure you know what kind of people you're out to get. Jordan…"

"Garret Macy's mistake put this entire institution in jeopardy. And now, it seems Doctor Cavanaugh has followed in his footsteps…"

"I don't know why Doctor Macy concealed evidence…"

"I don't either. It's not my fault. And, I should remind you, it's no longer my business now that the District Attorney is involved. My concern is that this office be run to the best of my ability. And Doctor Cavanaugh has been more than careless in the past, and careless mistakes…"

"No one in this office is careless -- Quite the opposite. These people pour their heart and souls into finding the truth…" Lily cut in.

"You will all just have to determine that you will pull together and work together as befits any employee of this office. Something that Doctor Cavanaugh has been unwilling to do - even before I came upon the scene…"

"But…"

"Look, _all_ of you are replaceable. Even the great Garret Macy was replaceable. If you are not going to work with me, I suggest you turn in your resignation by the end of the day. Everyone is expendable."

"No, Doctor Slocum -- You're _wrong_. Everyone is _not _expendable. We're a family. We work best together. If you try to take away our team, this…this - _institution_ - as you call it - will fall apart. Look at how it's already unraveling around you!"

"We'll just have to see about that. Doctor Cavanaugh said the same thing, and _where is she now_? Ms. Lebowski, I have not found fault with your work in the past few days, so I suggest you get back to it...work. Do your job. That is, unless you'd like to be the first….No, excuse me…the _second_ to leave!" He trekked down the hall, looking for Doctor Vijay. It was time he got some answers.

-----

Garret stood outside Woody's room, talking with Doctor Roberts. "Of course, there is some risk. I have a Jordan Cavanaugh listed as his emergency contact…Know how I can reach her? I've tried this number, but no answer," he said, showing Garret the contact information.

Garret leaned over to look at the numbers listed on the sheet and shook his head. "That's the only information I have." He wondered where the hell Jordan was now.

"Well, I've explained it all to Detective Hoyt, but in his condition, he's been in a drug-induced state - has a morphine drip for pain - and I prefer to have someone else informed of the procedure, including all the risks." He looked at Garret pointedly.

"I'll talk to Detective Hoyt," he volunteered. "What's the earliest you can schedule for?"

Doctor Roberts looked at the chart. "Barring no more incidents like the other day, we should be able to do it tomorrow. His vitals need to stay strong though, and like I said -- there are some risks. It's so close to the spine…"

"I'll make sure Detective Hoyt is well-aware of his options."

"Frankly, Doctor, without this operation he really has no other options…Not if he wants to regain full use and control of his legs. Normally I would prefer to wait an extra day or so, but as I said, he needs this operation and I don't think it's prudent to wait longer than necessary." With that, Doctor Roberts shook Garret's hand and left.

Garret walked out to the lobby and grabbed his cell phone, hitting Jordan's number. "Pick up, pick up…" he muttered into the mouthpiece. But the phone was ominously silent.

-----

As soon as Jack Slocum had calmed down enough for Bug to explain a little more about the shooting and how Haley had taken jurisdiction of the bodies, Jack's initial panic started to fade a little. "Well, come down to my office so we can explain it to the agents there. I moved them out of the conference room so Ms. Lebowski could make a notification. I want you to tell them exactly what you've told me." Slocum smiled a little. It would at least get him off the hook with the Feds, so now he wouldn't look so bad in the eyes of the other agency - or the governor. Bug had reluctantly rose from his chair and started down the hall after Slocum, feeling like a small, reprimanded child, even though he'd done nothing wrong.

Slocum opened the door to his office, where files and folders were scattered all over the floor in disarray. His desk drawers were open, contents dumped unceremoniously on the floor. "What the…?" he started. Bug peeked over his shoulder. The room, although not empty, was void of any FBI agents. "Get a print kit, now!"

-----

Bug went searching for Nigel and found him in the conference room, Lily standing there and motioning to Sidney, who was passing by, to enter. "You too, Bug!" she commanded.

"Nigel, Slocum needs you…We have a, uh, situation…" Bug started. Nigel rose from his seat.

"Sit down, Nigel!" Lily demanded. She ushered Bug and Sidney into the conference room too, not letting them speak. "Look, we're acting like foolish, spoiled children! Slocum is not the boss Garret was…He never will be. But maybe we should stop working solitary, huh? We should all be working _together_….Like a team. Like we did when anything catastrophic happened around here. Just look at us!" She looked at each of them, gazing evenly into their eyes. "We've all been torn apart by this whole mess and our jobs are all on the line. We're all trying to deal on separate levels. Don't you guys see?" she pleaded. "We get together, maybe we can actually work this mess out…I'm not used to doing it on my own anymore, I guess. I've come to rely on you all…That's not because I'm weaker, it's because you're all my….family. You're my _family_." Her eyes were wet with tears.

The room was silent for a moment. "She's right, you know. Here we've almost been working against each other, or ignoring each other to try to save our jobs…Just walking away," Bug said slowly. "Lily, can you ever forgive me? I mean, for not being there?" He went to her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Let's not taint the moment with a lot of mushy sentiment," Sidney said, drying his moist eyes. "Let's just prove to that insufferable bastard that we _are_ a team, that not one of us is expendable!"

Lily smiled through her tears. "Yeah!"

"I've got an idea….Let's all meet for a round later and brainstorm on getting Dr. M back his old job!" Nigel offered. They all heartily agreed.

"And, we really need to work together to find…." Bug began.

"I wasn't aware that I had authorized a party in the conference room!" Slocum's voice cut through. No one had seen him in the doorway, and they wondered how long he'd been standing there. "Back to work! There are three bodies coming in within the next ten minutes, all from the MVA Doctor Townsend responded to this morning. Doctor Townsend, I need to see you in my office, immediately!"

They all walked out of the room, Slocum shoving charts toward most of them. He shook his head. Now what had _that_ been about? It was bad enough to have the FBI breathing down his back to find evidence that Doctor Cavanaugh had already supposedly found…But now the staff was planning what...Mutiny? Maybe he should give Doctor Macy a call after all? He rubbed at his temples again. He never remembered getting so many headaches before the day he'd been sent by the Governor to suspend Macy. It was just this place. He thought back to his life prior to that day. Not so many headaches….How he longed to get back to those days.

-----

Bug followed after Slocum and Nigel, to voice his concern about the morning's incident, not caring if the man was going to suspend him or not for whatever he would construe as insubordination. "Look, those men obviously were after something…It's possible that they were _not_ working with the FBI. Otherwise, they would have known that Agent Haley had possession of the body and that Jordan had done the autopsies at their temporary headquarters…" They entered Slocum's office.

"Holy Mary in the Manger!" Nigel exclaimed. Jack shot him a look and Nigel controlled the next few expletives he'd been about to blurt. He turned to Bug, his eyebrows raised in question.

Jack nodded. "Sure, Doctor Vijay...it's obvious, isn't it? Those men were probably not FBI. I want you to get Doctor Cavanaugh on the phone while I call the police…I want her down here _immediately_, ill or not!" His hands, normally steady as steel, were shaking. "And Doctor Vijay…not one word to the press about this…Not one!" Bug nodded and slipped out of the office, anxious to make contact with Jordan.

Nigel looked at Slocum, clearly puzzled. "Doctor Townsend, get a print kit and get to my office immediately! I want some answers!"

Nigel nodded and rushed down to the lab. What, exactly, was going on? And, he thought in a panic, what did Jordan have to do with all this?

-----

Lily saw Bug emerge from Jack Slocum's office, his face pale and grave. "So…He put you on probation?" she asked curiously. Bug was walking briskly and Lily hurried to catch up with him. "Hey, Bug…You alright?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

Bug whirled around. "I have to get in touch with Jordan…Right away!" he was frantic.

"Bug…What's wrong!" Lily demanded, following him to his desk where he was flipping through his neatly organized Rolodex. It stopped at Jordan's information and Bug picked up the phone and dialed. In his haste, he missed a number and had to hang up and dial again. "Bug!" Lily was starting to fear the worst.

"It's Jordan…" he started.

"Yeah, she called in sick today. Emmy was surprised. Remember the last time she got sick," Lily smiled in remembrance. "Garret had to…"

"She's not answering!" Bug cried out in dismay. "She's not sick, Lily…I _know_ she's not!"

"What are you talking about?" Lily insisted Bug provide an answer.

Nigel burst into the room. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded of Bug. "Slocum's got me trying to lift latents from his office…his _office_ for crying out loud…and it looks like a bloody tornado whipped through it!"

Lily looked at him in surprise. "His office? What?"

"Have you seen it? It's like some time bomb went off in there. There are files scattered, books knocked off shelves…"

"I was just down there a while ago, bringing him about fifty of Jordan's recent cases…It was a little cluttered, but it was pretty organized if you could ignore the towers of files on his desk…" Lily offered.

"Answer the phone, Jordan!" Bug's voice cut into their conversation.

"Jordan? What does Jordan have to do with all of this?" Lily queried. Nigel was more than upset now.

Just then, Jack Slocum appeared in the door way. "Well, Doctor, any luck getting in touch with Doctor Cavanaugh?" Bug shook his head as he hung up the phoneand Slocum sighed heavily.

"I talked with Chief Marcone at the FBI…No one has seen Agent Haley since he left with Doctor Cavanaugh day before yesterday…And he assured me he did _not_ send two agents here for the autopsy results!"

"What in bloody hell is going on?" Nigel turned to Slocum, whoonce again ignored the irritating outbursts from his criminologist.

"Agent Drew Haley was working on a case involving three undercover agents who lost contact with the FBI sometime this week. Two of them were found dead at the Cask N' Flagon, where Doctor Cavanaugh and Doctor Vijay arrived on the scene day before yesterday. Apparently, Agent Haley took custody of the bodies and asked Doctor Cavanaugh to assist with the autopsies. No one has seen Agent Haley since, but I could have sworn that Doctor Cavanaugh was in all day yesterday…" Slocum said tiredly.

Lily shook her head. "She _was_ in. I tried to get her to go down to the hospital with me at lunch to see…" she stopped, not wanting to reveal too much. Even though Slocum seemed to be almost human at the moment, she didn't think he needed to know anything about Jordan's personal life…Not until she was sure that he wouldn't use it against the ME at some future date.

"Haley was supposed to call you and get clearance for her to work with him all day yesterday," Bug interjected.

"He never called and she was pissed," Nigel added. Slocum shot him a look. "Sorry…" Nigel attempted. "The question is," he started, "Where is Jordan now? Emmy said it was Jordan on voice mail calling out sick. It's so unlike her, but I'm not certain she's been herself lately anyway…"

"We need to talk to Garret!" Lily blurted. Slocum looked at her. "Well, _he _would know where to find Jordan if she was just taking a day off…" she faltered.

"Fine, Ms. Lebowski. Call in Doctor Macy. I'll be expecting him in the conference room within the hour. In the meantime…Doctor Vijay -- Did you recover _anything_ from the scene that might be helpful?" Slocum's voice was weary.

"Nothing that the FBI didn't confiscate when Haley arrived on scene…" he started. Slocum sighed and walked out of the office. "But I know Jordan did…" Bug told Nigel and Lily confidentially. They nodded, and Lily whispered.

"What is it she took?"

"She grabbed a few things, actually," Bug whispered conspiratorially. "She has to have some stuff in her office…" Bug told them. "I think she had a file, a chip from a digital camera…She was dictating before the Feds showed up at the scene…" he tried to fish his memory for any more detail.

"That should be enough to get us started, eh love? Well…what are we waiting for?" Nigel asked, starting for the door.

"Wait!" Lily pulled him back. "If we all go, Slocum will get suspicious…Only one of us can go in. Nigel, you go…"

"Why him?" Bug asked, pouting ever so slightly.

"He's fast…" she noticed the perturbed look on Bug's face. "Look, Bug…It just makes more sense. You're very, uh, _thorough_. Slocum would notice you in a heartbeat. Nigel's a little more sneaky, that's all…" she soothed.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he grunted reluctantly. "I guess I'll try to track down Doctor Macy…"

She shook her head. "Why don't you let me do that?" He acquiesced half-heartedly. "Well, what should I do?"

"Keep Slocum busy!" Nigel and Lily shouted in unison, then headed out the door, each turning in the opposite direction.

-----


	9. Give Us a Clue

_**A/N: Usual disclaimer. I don't own the characters, yada-yada...I wish I did! Well, hope you're enjoying the story so far. I am trying to remember to include every little detail, so please bear with me. As always, please review!**_

**PART IX - Give Us A Clue…**

Jordan sat at a small, cramped table at the back of a dingy diner, trying to force down the rest of her breakfast, as she looked over her shoulder and out the window for the fifteenth time. She was sure she was being followed, and she didn't like it at all. Maybe she hadn't gotten away as quickly as she'd thought. Maybe, she reminded herself, she shouldn't have stopped at the hospital to leave that note for Woody…

She was positive she'd seen Cal hovering near the hospital, but she didn't think he'd seen her. She breathed a small sigh of relief, knowing that someone would be there to help Woody during his recovery. At least that was one good thing about the morning, she thought wryly. But she had thought _she _would be able to be there for him, and the irony of her situation made her lose what there was of her appetite. Still, she would need the energy, so she forced herself to finish the last of her omelet and threw down some change for the waitress. If only she knew where to find Max…Grabbing her coffee - _thank God for to-go cups_, she thought - she snatched up her suitcase and rushed out of the small diner, looking back to be sure she was alone.

-----

Garret tried to smile brightly at Woody. "Hey, all surgeries present some modicum of risk," he tried. "This is certainly not a slight risk, but it's necessary. And then you'll be up and walking in no time…"

Woody was more pessimistic. "_If _the surgery is successful, Doc. Yeah, it'll be grueling work…And even after that, I still might not ever regain one hundred percent usage," he looked down at his legs, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the situation.

"Still, being able to walk again will be better than the alternative," Garret pointed out.

"What, no use of my legs…or death?"

The young detective was not in a pleasant mood, was in a lot of pain and Garret just couldn't keep up a good bedside manner much longer. "Well, I'll check back with you... Maybe stop in before your surgery tomorrow morning…"

Woody looked at him apologetically. "Doc, really…You don't have to. I'm sure you've got other things to do…" Garret's effort was not lost on Woody. He realized his tone was more than petulant.

Garret shook his head slowly and smiled at him. "Until I can get Jordan in here, you're gonna' need a little support. I don't have anything else to do anyway," a small twinge of regret sounded from the man, but a tight smile remained pasted on his face.

Woody returned the smile. "Thanks…It's nice to know that you people really care…I mean…" he faltered.

"Hey, it's okay…And besides, you know my father wasn't really there while I was growing up, so I kind of know how painful it is to feel like you don't have family. And this has been a major ordeal for you, I'm sure."

"Well, I know it hasn't been any easier for you this last week or two…It seems like bad things always come in three's…" He stopped contemplating the potential outcome of his surgery, recalling his sleepless night.In three's...He did not want to admit to Doctor Macy that he'd been having strange dreams about Jordan being in danger. They were unshakeable.

"Superstition…You're starting to sound like Nigel. But let's hope not this time!" Garret encouraged. "Get some rest…I'll be back tomorrow." He turned to go, bumping into the nurse. "Excuse me!" he quickly moved aside.

She smiled. "No problem, Doctor Macy…" She looked over at Woody. "How're you doing today? I hear from Doctor Turner that Doctor Roberts is gonna' do the surgery tomorrow. That's great news! He's one of the best!"

Woody frowned. "I hope so," he said, his voice full of doubt.

"Well, I have a letter here that should at least cheer you up!" She smiled brightly and placed an envelope on his tray. "A beautiful young lady dropped this off before you were awake," she told him, winking. Woody saw Jordan's familiar handwriting and pushed the letter back away from him. "Hey, let me check your vitals and then I'll leave you some privacy to read it, honey."

Garret lingered near the door, wondering what it was that Jordan couldn't - or wouldn't - say in person. Writing a letter? It just wasn't like her. He waited until the nurse left the room. Woody just sat staring at the white, thick envelope. "Well?" he prompted.

Woody shook his head slowly. "I…I can't…Not until after the surgery. Not until I know…"

Garret frowned. "Don't you think that's a little childish? You know how she feels about you now…"

"No, Doctor Macy…I don't. Besides, you heard Doctor Roberts. I can't afford a setback of any kind. And that's all this will be. And if it isn't, it'll be that much sweeter to read knowing that I will have some kind of future to offer her…" His voice trailed off softly.

Garret nodded thoughtfully. He could see Woody's point...but barely. Still, he didn't want to upset the young man further. "Well...See you tomorrow, Woody," Garret said before leaving the man alone with his thoughts. He walked to the elevator, his mind full. A letter? _Now_ what was Jordan up to? Maybe he should get in touch with Max.

-----

Nigel had done as thorough a search as possible in Jordan's office, but he hadn't even found her working file for the case. He met up with Lily and Sidney. "Well, that was fruitless…" he began. Just then, Slocum barged in to the lab, followed by an apologetic-looking Bug.

"Doctor Townsend, we need to get in touch with Doctor Cavanaugh immediately." He looked at Lily. "I'm assuming that Doctor Macy still hasn't checked in…" he paused and wiped his brow. "I can't wait any longer. _I need to know what was going on with that case_. Come on, Doctor Townsend…let's go…"

Nigel stepped back, his mouth agape. "_Go_?"

"Yes, yes…Let's _go_. We're going to pay a visit to Doctor Cavanaugh. I assume you know where she lives, being _family_ and all…" he started. "Ms. Lebowski, hold all my calls. If Doctor Macy checks in, please convince him to meet with us this afternoon. And if Doctor Cavanaugh checks in, by all means get her in here _immediately_! You might want to let her know that things are a little fishy." He ushered Nigel toward the hall. "Come on, Doctor…I have a bad feeling about all this…"

They all nodded in agreement as Nigel followed Jack Slocum toward the elevator that would take them to the parking garage.

-----

Cal was exhausted. He had been following - _someone_ - more than half the day. He wondered how his brother had the fortitude to do this kind of work day in and day out. Maybe Cal hadn't ever really given Woody the credit - hell, the _respect_ - he deserved. The man in front of him rounded a corner and Cal waited for what seemed like minutes but was only a few seconds before following.

He thought about what kind of trouble Jordan could be in and wondered for the hundredth time whether or not he should call Woody…Surely Woody had a friend or two that would be better at this? But Cal was seriously afraid for Jordan and he didn't want to lose the stranger in front of him.

Jordan's El Camino was history now - torched by the man Cal was tailing…A man of obvious foreign descent, Cal noted, but he hadn't been close enough to get a good description, at least not one good enough for the police. He'd almost lost him twice already, crossing several of Boston's busiest intersections during the morning rush hour. The only saving grace had been the man's Bo-Sox hat and his plain jacket, which stood out among the business suits crossing toward coffee shops, news stands and office buildings. Whoever the man was, he seemed to be more than a little familiar with unsavory activities - like breaking into Jordan's apartment and then torching her El Camino.

Cal was none too lily white himself, and he'd hidden in the hall when his 'friend' picked his way into the apartment. In fact, he'd followed suite, taken one look at the tornado of clothes, books, papers and dishes and pivoted out of the apartment and down the stairs in pursuit of the burglar.

Jordan had crisscrossed all over the city, stopping briefly at the hospital. Now they were standing across the street from a dingy little diner, and Cal wondered if he'd get a short break any time soon. Maybe he should call the morgue…He remembered Woody telling him that those people were the best, and after seeing them work, he knew it to be true. He wondered if they could help him out…Maybe the guy had left fingerprints at Jordan's apartment? He pulled out his cell phone, poised to dial, when he saw Jordan walking out of the diner.

-----

"Macy," Garret picked up the squalling phone as he entered the apartment. He noted that the message light on his machine was blinking almost uncontrollably. He wondered if it was still the press trying to hound him into making a statement…Something his attorney had advised against. He couldn't speak with Renee due to conflict of interest, but he secretly hoped she would call to check on him. Their relationship appeared to have cooled off, but their last encounter had given him the hope that there was still some ember in there somewhere that he could fan back into the flaming passion they'd shared.

"Oh, Garret…thank God!" Lily's voice was full of relief.

"Hey, Lily…" he began, his feelings a mixture of disappointed that his caller was not Renee and concern at the tone of Lily's voice. "What's wrong? Slocum giving you a hard time? I told you he would."

"Garret…We need you down here immediately!"

He rubbed his eyes, still a little tired from just sitting at the hospitalwaiting for Woody to wake up so they could discuss the risks and benefits of the impending surgery. He still wondered how Jordan had been able to slip into the hospital without him knowing. "What's wrong?" he asked again.

"It's Jordan!" Lily blurted. "You've got to get down here right away! Slocum needs to talk with you… Please, Garret…_Please_!"

He sighed heavily, wondering what in the world Jordan had done to piss Slocum off. "Alright. I need to shower and change. Tell him I'll be down…And Lily, calm down. I'm sure everything is alright." He frowned at the thought of meeting up with Slocum and trying to explain away Jordan's barely legal methods of solving cases . How did you explain the passion and precision that went into her work? She was the best damn ME he'd ever worked with, and if she'd had higher aspirations, Garret would almost be afraid to lose his job to her…He'd even thought of grooming her to take over after his retirement, but he knew she would never cater to the powers that be. She was barely polite with him at times if she was too involved in a case.

Lily's voice stopped his musings. "It's _not_, Garret…_You don't understand_…Jordan is…"

"I'll be down. Just sit tight." Garret cut her off and set the portable phone on its charger, rushing to shower so he could find out what the hell was happening in his morgue.

-----

"Have you ever done this before, Doctor?" Slocum was asking Nigel as they stood at the locked door of Jordan's apartment.

Nigel swallowed, wondering whether or not it would be prudent to tell the truth. _What the hell_, he thought. _The man knows I was in the British navy, Black Ops and all_… "Yeah, I've dabbled in a little B&E once or twice in my life," he said with more confidence than he felt. Truth was, his hands were shaking. Agent Haley seemed to have disappeared, and Jordan was still not picking up her damn phone. He fiddled carefully with the lock, using several old tricks, until he heard the desired click. He pushed the door open slowly.

Slocum stepped into the apartment cautiously, in case Jordan was still there. He could imagine the repercussions if she was merely sick and resting. But he didn't need to worry, his hunch had been right. They found the whole place in disarray…Stools overturned, cushions slit open, clothes and books and papers everywhere. "Call the Boston PD…We need to find Doctor Cavanaugh…" Slocum's voice was barely above a whisper. He suddenly felt very responsible for the chestnut-haired ME…for all of them. What kind of foul play was going on? He hoped they could find Jordan before anyone else did…

-----

"Ah, Agent Drew Haley…I wondered how long it would take," a voice hovered above Drew as he finally stirred from his drug-induced slumber, and he could feel the hard heel of a boot crush against his temple. "Well, well…Get up! I haven't got a lot of time!" the voice was angry, impatient. Drew moaned and rolled to his side before he felt himself being forced up by several strong arms. "Put him over there…That chair." He was propped up and tied tightly, his head drooping from pain.

"Where am I?" he tried to talk, his words slurring almost unintelligibly. He heard the echo of laughter and tried to force himself to look toward the sound. As soon as he saw the figure before him, he felt the bile rise in his throat. "_You_?"

Another laugh sounded. "That's right…I didn't realize this would be so easy….Drew, _honey_!" He stared unbelievingly into the hard, cold eyes of FBI Agent Miranda Sweeney.

-----

The day had waned. Cal's stomach rumbled. He had to pee. He was tired. And if he had wanted to, he could have turned and crossed the street to a seedy-looking lounge for a few drinks, maybe a little gambling -- hell, maybe he could even get lucky. But he was afraid to leave Jordan out of his sight for even a moment. He owed it to her - and to Woody...He winced at the thought of his big brother on crutches, in a wheelchair -- or worse. It was about time Woody knew that Cal could be reliable. He felt a surge of the adrenaline of determination.

The stranger had tailed her all day -- no easy feat, as Jordan had switched her mode of transportation more times than Cal cared to remember -- and now he was standing across the street from a sleazy motel miles from Boston, off of Route 495. They were headed south, Cal figured, and he wondered what the hell was going on for the millionth time. He needed to find a way to contact Jordan. A quick glance around her apartment had left him with the knowledge that she'd been trying to get lost… She hadn't taken her cell phone, her credit cards, her keys -- he'd seen them lying on the counter. And the guy who was tailing her hadn't bothered to take them either.

Things were not adding up yet, and if he didn't talk to her soon, he knew he would have to call Woody. Something he just wasn't ready to do. Maybe if he could get Jordan out of this…this _situation_…he could use it as a peace offering between him and Woody. He finally saw the Bo-Sox hat drift toward the lounge, and once the man disappeared behind the door, Cal emerged from the shadows and raced across the parking lot toward Room 117, rapping on the door madly as it began to rain.

"Jordan!" he whispered loudly. "Jordan, it's Cal…Let me in, quick!" He looked back toward the lounge, but he couldn't see much through the rain, which in a few seconds had become hard and pelting and draped the parking lot like a sheet.

Jordan peeked cautiously through the peep-hole. "Cal?" she whispered back. "What the hell are you doing here?" She opened the door slightly, and Cal squeezed inside, bolting it for her, before they heard a loud clap of thunder, followed by some wicked forks of lightening. He stood there, dripping wet, and grinned, but then his face turned serious.

"Funny, that's the same thing I was going to ask you…Care to tell me what the hell is going on?"

-----

They all sat at the bar: Nigel, Garret, Lily, Bug, Sidney. They were there to figure out what had happened to Jordan. The meeting with Slocum had been less than fruitful, and the poor man actually seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Once the work day had come to an end, Lily had put the word out that she wanted everyone - except Slocum, of course…it was too soon to trust him, she reasoned - to meet at the Pogue. Although they missed Max, the place had changed only slightly since Jordan had sold it, and it was as good a place as any to try to figure out what was going on, without the watchful eye of Jack Slocum hovering over them.

Garret had called Max, to see if he knew anything about where Jordan could have gone, but the man had been evasive -- as always. Garret was more than frustrated and threatened to tell the others Max was back in town, but after much begging on the ex-cop's part, Garret had let the matter drop and promised to keep the secret for the present.

So now they were at the Pogue, sitting at a large group of tables shoved together in the back, and trying to figure out what was going on. Garret waited until everyone had a drink, then said he had a little information about Jordan. She'd left a note for Woody that morning, although he had no idea what she'd written. "Woody refused to read it…He has surgery first thing and the doctor warned him he couldn't operate if there were any more setbacks…" They all paused for a moment, lost in their thoughts for the young detective.

But the letter had them even more puzzled. Nigel had checked in with the FBI and Agent Haley was still missing. Sidney raised his eyebrows. "You don't think the two of them took off together, do you?"

Nigel shook his head. "She's not that cold-hearted," he defended.

"She's a mess, but she does love Woody. There's no way she would just up and…" Lily chimed in.

"Is this the same Jordan we're talking about?" Bug asked. "She's taken off before. Maybe not over a man, but certainly over a _case_…"

"Well, Nigel…where is she?" Sidney asked, starting with the person who was usually closer to the ME. He knew they were tight.

Garret nodded. "What have you found?"

Nigel looked at Sidney, then back to Garret. "I can't find -- I can't find _any_thing. No traces of her, nothing. Her apartment was a bloody mess…There were clothes everywhere…"

"Clothes? Typical Jordan!" Garret sighed. "I was afraid of this…She's running again. She thinks Woody doesn't care about her…"

"C'mon…_Everyone_ can see that boy has it bad!" Sidney said. "He's like a love-sick school boy or something whenever anyone even mentions her name…"

Garret took a swallow of his scotch. "Yeah, but the idiot threw her out of his room after she told him she loved him…"

"_Jordan_ told Woody she _loved _him…And he _threw her out_!" Bug was incredulous.

Lily nodded. "Woody told us he did…"

"You see, this is what I was afraid would happen…" Garret started.

"No, Doctor Macy…You don't understand…That's all well and good, and maybe I'd believe it if it weren't for the furnishings toppled, cushions slashed. _Someone_ was looking for _something_. But I couldn't find any prints except on the doorknob…" Nigel stopped, looking around at his friends.

"Well, do you know whose prints they were?" Lily prodded. Nigel nodded, and she raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Well!"

Nigel took a swig and banged his glass down with a flourish. "They belong to none other than Calvin Hoyt."

"Woody's _brother_!" Lily was incredulous. "What does that mean?"

"C'mon, man…Stop screwing with us," Sidney said. Nigel was known for really digging up stuff on a person. There was no way, he thought, that Nigel didn't know where she was. He was holding back. "Do you think Jordan ran off with Woody's own brother?"

"No, Jordan loves _Woody_!" Lily insisted.

"And not likely in the middle of a case," Garret stated, bringing them back to the FBI and Agent Haley. "That's not like Jordan. She'd move heaven and earth to solve a case. And to completion. I seriously doubt that she would just take off…Unless she's out there looking for Haley. So. That leaves us with several possibilities, none of them looking good."

"C'mon, man," Sidney tried again, turning toward Nigel. "You _must_ know where she hangs out…"

"Since Jordan started looking into the Moreau case," he cast an apologetic look at Garret, "she really hasn't been anywhere. Between that and Woody getting shot - and Slocum running the morgue like we now live in a world of 36 hour days - she really hasn't been anywhere…But I can't find her. I'm serious…It's like she just disappeared! No credit card statements, no bank withdrawals. No one has seen or heard from her. There's no sign of her and that damned rickety El Camino anywhere!"

"Don't worry, it'll break down somewhere and she'll have to call a cab or something," Bug added with confidence. "When have you ever known that thing to be close to a form of reliable transportation?"

"What if we don't find her?" Lily cut in.

"Maybe that's just it…Maybe she doesn't want to be found, for whatever reason," Bug added.

"You don't think she finally snapped because of Woody, do you?" Lily finally posed. "Oh, poor Jordan! She must be hurting so bad!"

"No, that's not it…" Garret said thoughtfully. He swirled his scotch, looking deep into his glass. "We have to convince Woody that he needs to read that letter as soon as possible after he gets out of the Recovery Room tomorrow…"

"You mean today…" Nigel said, looking at his watch. "Almost closing time and we aren't any closer than when we started. Bloody hell!"

Lily looked at Nigel, worry written all over his face. "You better go rest…Aren't you on call? When have you ever known it to be quiet on a Friday?" She tried to make a joke of it as they all rose to leave.

"C'mon, I'll see you get home safely," Bug offered Lily. She nodded.

"We'll meet here again tomorrow night," Garret said. "If any of you hears anything, call me right away."

"Should we keep Slocum up to speed?" Sidney asked.

"No…If there's anything he needs to know about _my_ morgue, or _my_ employees, I'll be the one to tell him!" Garret answered. He smiled at them -- his family -- and felt that, for the first time since he'd left the morgue, he actually wanted to really fight for his job. His pity party was officially over.

-----


	10. Whose Body Is It Anyway?

_**A/N: The usual disclaimer...I wish I at least owned JOC...but dream on, right? Anyway, I hope you all like this. Sorry the updates are so slow, but I hate to rush because then I mess up my details...I must have edited this about twenty times! Anyway, thank you for your comments. Please keep sending those reviews!**_

**PART X - WHOSE BODY IS IT ANYWAY?**

Cal took the towel Jordan offered and began to rub it across his face. "Well?" he waited, watching her face closely.

"Well…I decided to take a little trip. Everyone's always telling me I should get out more!" she quipped, trying to lighten the mood. But the circumstances of her situation swirled around in her mind. On the one hand, she couldn't afford to have Cal ask too many questions. On the other hand, he might actually be able to help her.

Cal shook his head. "Uh-uh…I don't buy it, Jordan. Where are you _really_ going? What's going on?"

Jordan looked at him warily. "On? Who said anything was going on?"

"I've been following - _someone _- who has been following _you _all day…Since you ran out of your apartment this morning..."

"What!"

"Yeah…I was waiting across the street from your building when you left this morning…"

"Early bird, are we?" She looked him over, not sure if she could trust him. Woody never had, and anything connected to him in any way was suddenly very important to her. " Why?"

"Huh?" Cal was pacing between the door and the window, and as he turned to face her, he knocked into the table. "Ouch!" he grabbed at his knee.

Jordan walked over to him and bent down, pulling up his pant leg to check the damage. "Why were you waiting for me?" she asked again. Just a small little black-and-blue mark. Nothing to worry about really. _Hopefully it won't slow us down_, she thought, then paused when she realized she was starting to include Cal in her still-unformed plans.

"I wanted to talk to you about Woody…"he said, rubbing at the sore.

Jordan looked pained. "_Woody_? Have you seen him? Is he okay? I thought I saw you near the hospital…" she remembered, standing slowly. "Is he getting his surgery? Is he going to be okay?"

"I…I don't know," Cal admitted, looking down at the floor. "I haven't talked to him yet…"

"You haven't talked to him yet! _Why the hell not_? The man's been shot, Cal! _He needs you_!" Jordan reprimanded in a loud whisper.

"I think he needs _you_," Cal whispered back, looking toward the door.

Jordan cut him off. "He doesn't…He told me - he told me to leave him alone…" she barely got out. She could hear Woody's voice, over and over in her mind, his voice hard and unfamiliar. "So that's exactly what I'm doing," she lied.

Cal was only half listening now, peeking through the blinds. He sighed when he saw the now familiar figure of the man with the Boston Red Sox hat. The stranger was back outside, staring at the motel from his spot across the street. "We'll have to finish this later…Right now, we have to get out of here!" He tried to make his voice sound calm yet urgent.

"How? If someone really is following me, it's not like I can walk right out of the door…"

"Hey, I know my brother told you I'm always in trouble…And while I hate to admit that's true, it might just come in handy for once…Follow me!" Cal grabbed Jordan by the arm and herded her toward the tiny bathroom.

-----

Nigel's pager started beeping madly. "Great," he sighed, reaching for the phone. He still had a slight headache from the events of the day, or at least from the few beers he'd downed at The Pogue. Although it had been good to get together with the morgue family - something they hadn't done since a few weeks before Garret had been suspended - the circumstances leading to it were certainly not good. And Jordan's absence had been loud and clear. In fact, he was having a hard time racking his brain to remember whether or not Jordan had said anything that even remotely indicated that she was ready to run. But that didn't add up with Haley's disappearance, or her trashed apartment, and Nigel feared the worst had befallen his good friend. He yawned before answering.

He managed to dial the number displayed in green on his pager. "Townsend," he said into the phone, trying to pretend he was more alert than he felt. He rolled up and dangled his feet over the side of the bed, yawning once again.

"Doctor T…How are we this evening?" It was the voice of Detective Roz Framus, not exactly music to his ears at this time of day.

"Detective Framus…" He looked down at his alarm clock, its red glow lighting up the phone on his nightstand. "I believe it's four thirty in the a.m., which makes it morning - not evening. So, what have we got?" He wasted no more time with chitchat, grabbing a pad of paper and pen from the nightstand and trying to hurry things along. It looked like it had been pouring rain, and while he was in no mood to really venture out for a call, it was better to get things moving so he could try to get back and get a little sleep before he had to report for Slocum's stupid morning meeting. After he got done the initial investigation, the body could wait a few hours in a cool vault at the morgue.

Roz was silent for a moment, almost hesitant. "I need you to meet me right away. I'm here around the corner from 227 Pearle Street."

Her tone had expressed some feeling aside from urgency, but Nigel didn't notice. He was busy, staring at his notes. Why did that address sound so familiar? He looked at it again, and it registered. "227? _Pearle_ Street? _Are you sure_?" he felt an ominous sense of panic. "Wh-what happened?"

Roz was quieter, for a change. "Apparently the police were here earlier today, by request of the Acting CME? I don't know if you were aware of that or not. It seems that…well, they overlooked something. Now I have a woman's body here…"

"It's not…No, can't be!" Nigel yelled back into the phone before hanging up on her. God, had Jordan been dead in her apartment the whole time he and Slocum had been standing in her bloody doorway! It just couldn't be possible…

His mind tried to conjure events of the afternoon. While he'd been a little suspicious of Jordan when he'd first seen her clothes strewn about, seeing the furniture toppled and the contents of her cabinets - though close to bare - scattered about had given him the feeling that something was wrong. Jordan had not fled, as he had feared. He was almost positive. Maybe she had taken Cal to visit Woody at the hospital? Maybe that's why he had found Cal's prints on the door. But Nigel was afraid there was more to the story. He dressed quickly and grabbed his crime scene bag before racing out the door, then jumping on his bike to head toward what he only hoped was the body of a stranger, wondering whether or not Slocum had checked the bedroom and small bath while he'd been lifting Cal's fingerprints off the door. Cal…oh god, was the Albanian mob involved again? He sped to the crime scene, his stomach churning.

-----

"_That's_ how you're going to get us out of here?" Jordan looked dubiously at the small bathroom window.

"Unless you have a better idea," he said. The storm outside was still raging. "We'll try to break the glass when it thunders again," Cal told her. "Then I'll boost you through the window. This guy doesn't know me, and I'm pretty sure he didn't know I was following him, so I can probably walk out the door and maybe he'll think he's been watching the wrong room. At least I hope he does…"

"And what makes you think I'll fit through there?" Jordan asked, trying to move the curtain aside.

Cal looked her over appraisingly, biting back the urge to whistle. "Oh, you'll fit…No doubt about that!" He was rewarded with a quick punch to his bicep. "Hey, just being honest…"

"God, you are _so_ like him!" Jordan groaned, while images of Woody and his daring attempts at chivalry and heroics made her smile. "Well, Cal…let's get out of this crummy place!" She smiled gamely and climbed up on top of the sink's vanity, watching for the lightening to streak across the sky. "Now!" she nodded, as Cal kicked at the original window, grateful it hadn't been replaced with plexiglass by the last few owners. It shattered, a large piece of glass cutting through his pants, as the familiar boom of thunder sounded through the room.

-----

The early morning sun flooded the bed as a nurse threw open the blinds. Woody groaned. Once again, he hadn't slept very well, feeling that Jordan was in trouble somewhere. Between that and the thunder storm that had raged more than half the night, he'd maybe slept all of ten minutes tops, and even in that small window of time he'd been haunted by visions of Jordan.

"Detective Hoyt? I'm Sara and I'll be prepping you for your surgery today." The nurse was leaning over him, shoving a thermometer in his mouth with one hand and pulling a portable blood pressure cuff over toward the bed with another. "So far, so good…" she finally smiled after his temperature reading came back normal. She finished her quick examination, the stethoscope cold on his chest, and finally grabbed his chart, jotting down the results. "Your vitals look real good. I don't see why we can't proceed today. I'll call Doctor Roberts. Someone will be in in a few minutes to wheel you down to surgery." He watched her little white shoes click across the floor and into the hall.

Surgery. While Woody had never forgotten the scent of a hospital after his father's death, he _had_ forgotten how scary a hospital could be. Doctors, nurses - none of them God - did what they could do to make a person better. But there was always the chance that the Grim Reaper was waiting near the door. He felt, maybe for the first time since his accident, the fear of death…

Doctor Macy had informed him that there were risks. And one of those risks was, of course, death. He had worked for the Boston PD as a homicide detective and with the ME's office for several years, but he had never really considered his own mortality. Not even when he'd been shot. He'd been more worried about his legs…a lot of good they would do him if he didn't make it through the surgery, he thought wryly. And because he'd been so torn by what could happen in his future - by what might be the end of the future he'd planned - he'd turned Jordan away. He might not ever get the chance to tell her that he loved her, that what he'd said had been out of anger and even pity for himself. And now he was staring down death, very alone and very afraid.

-----

Roz saw Nigel's bike come to a screeching halt and walked briskly toward the end of the block where yellow crime-scene tape roped off a fairly large section of Pearle Street. "It's okay, let him in," she waved off one of the officers who was asking Nigel for some type of identification. "This way," she said, dispensing with the small talk.

"Well…?" Nigel was hesitant, almost afraid to ask.

"It's the body of a young woman, probably in her thirties…"

"Is it…?" he interrupted, not able to say her name.

Roz shrugged, trying to keep Nigel as calm as possible. When she spoke, her voice was soft and low. "Can't say for sure right now…It's a burn victim. But - you're not going to like this…The victim was sitting in a vehicle that was obviously torched…With the storm, we figure it's just been smoldering for hours. That's why no one called it in until a patrol car drove by and saw signs of smoke. They stopped to check the vehicle and found the body…And the vehicle was registered to Doctor Jor-"

They had been fast-approaching what was left of the El Camino, and Nigel slowed down in shock. "Oh my God, oh my God!" Nigel's voice interrupted, his hands shaking. "I was just here earlier…The El Caminio wasn't…I didn't think to look around the corner…I…I can't do this…I really _can't_ do this!"

"Look, I understand. But we _have to _make a positive identification. We'll probably need to match her dental records - Her hands are so burnt I doubt you'll find any prints…And the storm we had probably washed away whatever trace was there…" Roz trailed off, looking at the ground, sorry for the loss of such an outstanding medical examiner. "How soon can you…?"

"I can't, I can't," Nigel started to sob, backing away toward his motorcycle. "_Call someone else…I can't_!"

Roz nodded in understanding and flipped open her cell phone, watching Nigel stumble back toward the end of Pearle Street. She wondered if there was anyone down at the morgue who would be willing to do the autopsy knowing that it could be one of their own. She gritted her teeth when she remembered the one person there who would be likely to help, just as his voice answered her call.

-----

Miranda Sweeney had just gotten off the phone with her contact, Justin Page. He'd apparently tailed Jordan Cavanaugh to some dive motel off Route 495, heading directly toward their hideout. She wondered what Drew had told the ME. Even after a severe beating, Drew was not ready to betray the Boston medical examiner. Miranda was still slightly jealous. "Hey -- it's me…" she spoke into the phone.

"I told you to wait for _me_ to call _you_…This better be important!" came a husky male voice.

"It is," Miranda assured, looking down the hall where Drew was still tied and slumped in the chair. "He's not telling us anything. The Feds have the bodies, and I can't be sure they won't be able to trace that gun to me…" Miranda was slightly afraid. More of losing her life than getting caught. Killing two agents would get her the death penalty, and flipping sides to help Drew at this late point wouldn't keep her mother safe. Miranda thought back to the small cottage in New Jersey where she'd grown up. And where two of her colleagues - traitor agents as well - waited as guests in her mother's home until her job in Boston was completed to satisfaction. If not, well…Miranda shook her head and tried to focus on the matter at hand.

"You'll just have to make sure you get them back -- the bodies _and_ the gun. What of the medical examiner?"

Miranda swallowed. "Page has been tailing her. I don't know if she suspected something or not. She left her apartment yesterday morning, carrying only a suitcase. He found her cell phone and credit cards and keys still on her counter. It isn't likely she'll run back. But…" She paused, not really wanting to continue.

"But what?"

"I don't know what Haley told her about us and our little operation. I couldn't find his file…"

"Then you look harder…Make him talk…And -- you bring her in. Dead or alive, Ms. Sweeney. That's the new arrangement then. Nothing can jeopardize this mission, understand?"

Miranda's head bobbed in agreement, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Yes, sir. I'll take care of it."

The voice on the other end of the line was cold. "No mistakes, Ms. Sweeney. Kill if you must, but no more loose ends." The phone clicked softly, followed by a dial tone. He'd hung up. Miranda set the phone down and went back down the hall toward Haley. She needed to find out exactly how much Doctor Cavanaugh knew before the ME was able to contact the authorities…

-----

Lily went in search of Bug, her face tired and worried. "Now _Nigel_ has called out sick!" she exclaimed. Bug was standing in Autopsy One, poised to cut into the body of a forty year-old man. He set the scalpel back down on the nearby tray and threw off his gloves as he headed for Nigel's desk, Lily close on his heels.

"See!" she pointed to Nigel's empty chair, his computer screen black and empty.

Bug shook his head vehemently. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this…" he tried, but it sounded hollow even to him.

"Hey, what's going on?" Sidney barged in. "Slocum's meeting is in five minutes and no one's heard from him since yesterday…"

"What the _hell_!…This is starting to sound like something from the Twilight Zone!" Lily cried out.

"Easy," Bug put his arm around her shoulders, trying to calm her down. He steered her toward the brake room when he suddenly remembered where the Brit could be. "Nigel was on call…Maybe something came in."

"_Then why would he call out sick_! That just does _not_ make any sense!"

Emmy came down the hall, rushing toward them. "I have a message for you, Bug…It's from Doctor Slocum. He needs you to meet him in Autopsy Three in five minutes…"

"What about the meeting?" Sidney asked her.

"Apparently this is more pressing…Meeting's been canceled," she said, handing him a note to post on the conference room door. Sidney's mouth fell open.

Lily shook her head. "I don't like this. It seems like this office is falling apart. Stuff's been getting weirder and weirder since Garret's been gone…" Her hands were trembling.

Bug led her into the break room and helped her to sit. "Let me get you a cup of tea…" he offered. She smiled at him and nodded. "Sidney, can you take my body in Autopsy One? It's for an insurance claim, and I haven't cut the body open yet. You'll find my notes on the counter."

Sidney stepped toward the door. "Right, man. No problem...At least we don't have to go through the whole meeting thing." He whistled down the hall, stopping to slam the taped sign against the conference room door.

Bug walked over to Lily and handed her a steaming cup fresh out of the microwave. "Sorry, it's the best we have…" he apologized.

But Lily was lost in her own thoughts. "I wonder what's more pressing than the morning meeting?" Lily mused, sipping her tea.

"Well, I guess I'm about to find out…" Bug said, hearing Slocum's loud voice instructing where to wheel the body. He jumped off and hurried toward Autopsy Three, but not before he bent, quickly but shyly, and kissed Lily on the cheek. "Have a good day, Lily!"

Lily looked up in surprise, ready to say something in return, but Bug was already gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

-----

Nigel had sped around the city mindlessly, trying to focus on whatever detail he was missing from this complicated puzzle. He was certain the woman could not be Jordan…His mind just would not allow that even as a remote possibility. But still, there was something he was missing. Finally, he replayed the conversation from the previous evening in his head. Garret had mentioned - something - about a letter to Woodrow? He needed to see it for himself.

He walked up to the nurses' station, his face a mask of what he hoped was more concern than confusion, and asked for Detective Hoyt. "Honey, he's in Recovery by now. They won't be wheeling him up for another hour or so…Why don't you go get yourself some coffee and come back then. I can't promise he'll be good company, but you never know. It sounds like the surgery was successful, so don't fret about your friend." The nurse was friendly, but she practically shooed him away. Not knowing what else to do, he wandered down to the cafeteria and took her advice. He was back promptly in an hour. But Woody still hadn't been brought up from recovery…

-----

"That's it, just let it all out…" a nurse cooed, holding a bucket up for Woody. He ached so badly, but it wasn't the aches and pains that were bothering him just now. It was the motion. He felt the urge to be sick and tried to lean toward the bucket. The nurse was swabbing his face with a cool cloth.

He literally felt as though he couldn't -- or shouldn't -- move. Every time he moved his head even a fraction of an inch, he threw up. It felt like an amusement park ride, where you were stuck against a wall by force and any little movement made you sick. Like some sort of gravitational pull.

"You're just having a bad reaction to the anesthesia," the nurse explained. "I've called Doctor Roberts and the anesthesiologist on duty. Don't worry, it'll be okay. Aim for the bucket…We can't take you back upstairs until you stop vomiting." She kept mopping at his head, trying to steady the bucket under his chin. He'd never felt so sick in his life, he thought again, as he tried unsuccessfully to reach for the bucket. The nurse dropped his chart with a loud bang, and he jumped. Damn, he was _scared_...of a stupid loud noise. He wondered if he was ever going to feel alright again.

-----

Jordan felt a hand clap down over her mouth and tried to scream. She was jerked back into a van, the doors shutting with a loud bang. She wasn't about to go down easy, she thought, so she started to kick and flail as best as possible, trying to bite her attacker.

"Easy, easy…it's me," a familiar voice came from behind her. She let her arms fall limply to her sides and turned toward the voice…Cal's voice.

"Where did you disappear to!" she demanded when he let go of her.

He put his finger to his lips. "Quiet…I don't want anyone to know you're in here…" he began.

"Convenient for you…No one will suspect a thing when you kill me off." She looked at him with distrust. She had been waiting at the back of the motel in the pouring rain, for at least an hour. Her hair was plastered to her head, her shirt clinging, her jeans sloshy and uncomfortable. Finally, hoping to at least get somewhere dry, she had started to snake around the building, regretful that she hadn't thought to take a gun along. Cal had disappeared, she'd thought, and she wondered if maybe he was working for the other side again...the Albanians.She hadn't wanted to think the worst of him, but she could almost hear Woody's voice, warning her to be cautious.

"Jordan," Cal whispered with frustration. "Shut up a minute! They'll hear you…I'll answer all of your questions later. We have to get out of here before anyone realizes that you got away!" He climbed into the driver's seat and motioned for her to lay low in the back of the van. She crouched down, her eyes filled with doubt. "I promise…" he whispered. He turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the parking lot. "This was the only thing I could think of after I got you out of the room…And I know that guy was more than suspicious when I walked out. He kept watching me. So I hung out for a little while before I hustled some guy at pool and got him drunk enough to give me the keys to this crappy van...You just have to trust me, okay?"

Jordan nodded, hoping that Cal would not betray her. "Where to, then?"

Cal shrugged. "I thought we would head back toward Boston...I doubt anyone tailing you way out here would look way back there..."

"Well, well...Boston it is..." she said, settling back against the side of the van, her thoughts full of what could await her back home.

-----

Nigel tried to smile at Woody, but his words sounded hollow. "I hear the surgery was successful…" he tried.

Although fresh from surgery and his hellish wait in the recovery room, Woody wasn't about to be fooled by a little small talk. "Nigel, what's on your mind? You've been pacing around the room for the last twenty minutes…"

"Sorry, thought you were still asleep…"

"Still a little sick," Woody admitted, his face cringing with the remembrance. "Can you hand me my toothbrush? It's over there…" he pointed toward the tray.

"What? Oh, sure," Nigel was distracted. He could see the letter from Jordan, resting between a pink pitcher dripping with condensation and the requested toothbrush. "Toothpaste too?" he asked, wheeling the tray over to Woody.

Woody nodded, eager to rid himself of the taste of vomit. "So...what's wrong?" he asked again.

Nigel held up the letter from Jordan. "Aren't you going to read it?" Nigel asked.

Woody shook his head. "No. Whatever she wants to say is probably just out of pity." He frowned, thinking of how he had turned Jordan away, wondering if the damage was irreparable. His behavior had been unforgiveable, he thought, even though Doctor Macy and Lily had tried to convince him otherwise. He just was not sure what he needed and what he wanted anyway. Woody closed his eyes, wondering if it was indeed over between them...Not that it had really ever been on, he told himself. "I don't need that right now. Maybe when I know for sure that I can walk again…" Woody was still uncertain about the success of the surgery. He still couldn't feel his legs, and after spending several hours in Recovery, he just _knew _that there was something wrong, that something hadn't gone right. He groaned and reached for the bucket as his stomach lurched, then smiled slightly when he didn't get sick.

"Aren't you even a wee bit curious?"

"No," Woody's voice was flat, but Nigel could see the detective was trying hard to hide his true feelings about the matter. Maybe he could use Woody's curiosity against him. Woody picked up the toothbrush and slowly and deliberately put a line of toothpaste on it, trying to change his focus.

"Well, okay then. It's only fair to tell you…" Nigel paused purposely.

Ignoring him, Woody brushed for a full two minutes, then finally spit out his toothpaste in the waiting bucket. "Tell me what?" he asked, his voice calm and seemingly uninterested.

"Jordan's gone."

At the sound of the news, Woody's tone turned bitter. "Gone? Isn't that typical 'Jordan Cavanaugh'? Run, run away, little girl -- So, gone where? Probably out like Nancy Drew, chasing some stupid clue about her mother's death that won't pan out. Or maybe she's off across the country somewhere like some Jane Do-gooder, trying to right another wrong." Woody's voice faded. He knew he was to blame for her leaving, but he couldn't help the anger that began to fill his chest. _She didn't even wait for the surgery!_ his mind roared. _She didn't even wait…I still might be able to walk…We still might have had a chance…She didn't even wait! _"So, Nigel, just where did she go this time?"

"No, Woody," Nigel's voice cut through his dire thoughts. "You don't understand...She was working on a case with FBI Agent Drew Haley. Two agents - undercover - turned up dead at the Cask n' Flagon. Two other agents," Nigel's hands made air quotes, his face frowning as he continued, "showed up at the morgue looking for the bodies and for Jordan. She was just gone. I've been checking everywhere, even looking at her credit card activity and bank statements…"

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Woody interrupted. His mind sifted through various conversations he'd had with Jordan over the years, but the memory refused to surface. "Who is Drew Haley?" Then Woody felt a chill. "Where is she, Nigel!" he demanded, recalling the dreams he just couldn't seem to shake. _Jordan was in trouble_…Jordan really _was_ in trouble! Even in his anger, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right, and his heart screamed for him to remember. "Haley…"

"Agent Drew Haley is the FBI Agent who worked the 'Digger' cases -- right before you came on with the Boston PD…The ones where Jordan was…"

"…buried alive…" Woody's voice was barely a whisper, the image of Jordan lying in a coffin playing over and over. He remembered…She had told him one night when they were alone, walking past a graveyard on their way back to her apartment after closing up The Pogue. She'd seemed scared, had moved closer to him and grabbed his arm. He hadn't understood, and then she'd blurted out the story as if it were an everyday thing, except that her voice had been small, frightened - not a side of Jordan Cavanaugh that he often - if ever - saw. "Where is she now? Where's Agent Haley?" he asked frantically.

"Agent Haley's been missing for two days now, last seen with Jordan. She called out sick yesterday…," he started.

"Sick? _Jordan_? She's _never_ sick…"

"…and today she's just…Gone. We don't know where she is…" Nigel said helplessly, not offering the information about her run-down El Camino. _That would freak him out_, Nigel thought. _No, I best keep that information to myself for now. But_…He held out the letter to Woody. "I was hoping this would leave some clue…It seems that the last known sighting of Jordan was here, to drop this letter off for you…" he finished lamely.

Woody took the letter in his hands, his face suddenly pale. "She's in trouble, Nigel…I _know_ Jordan's in trouble…" He tried to rise from his bed, not really caring if he could feel his legs or not, the letter fluttering to the floor. He gave Nigel a look, then mustered up strength to drape his legs over the side of the bed.

"Woody…_Don't_…" Nigel tried to discourage the detective from rising.

"He's right…" Garret's voice sounded from the doorway. "Get back in that bed. You won't be any good to us if you don't recover…" he sighed heavily, cursing the last few weeks. If only they could go back in time.

Woody was exhausted with the effort, but he tried again to rise from his bed…_My prison_, he thought grimly. "Get out of my way! _Jordan needs me_!" he tried, tears of frustration forming as he struggled to rise.

Nigel looked over to Doctor Macy, wondering how much he'd heard, how much he knew. He was afraid to ask if the autopsy had revealed that the victim had indeed been Jordan. He didn't believe it, and he didn't really want to know just yet.

"Look, I'm going to ring the nurse and get you something…You need to rest. You need to get your mind off of Jordan and rest…I..." Garret tried in vain. He looked to Nigel for some help, and the two men moved closer to the hospital bed.

"Get out of my way! _Jordan needs me_!" he tried again, his body weak from the surgery.

"Woody…We'll take care of it…_I promise_. You have to get better…" Nigel tried to help him back into his bed. Even weak from surgery, Woody was strong. Garret had to help push him back down onto his bed, but Woody fought them, his arms flailing, fists balled.

"_Jordan needs me_!" he cried again, his shouts sounding into the hall. The nurse ran into the room, finally answering Garret's frantic pulls at the bell.

"What seems to be the problem?" she demanded, taking in the sight of the two men trying to hold the young detective down.

"I think he needs to be sedated," Garret offered without explanation. She nodded in agreement and ran out of the room.

"_Like hell I do! I need to get out of this bed and find Jordan!_" he cried, punching out at his friends.

The nurse ran back in, an orderly behind her to help if necessary. Once she got the needle into Woody's IV, it was only a matter of seconds before he was out. "There, all better…" she told the men, then walked out shaking her head.

"That was a disaster!" Garret turned toward Nigel, once the hospital staff had left the room. "What the hell is going on now!"

They walked quickly down the hall. "Framus found Jordan's El Camino -- torched -- with a feminine body still inside…" the Brit's voice was almost a whisper.

"Oh my God! It's not…?" Garret almost couldn't finish.

"I don't know…I couldn't stick around…I…" Nigel faltered.

"Well, then who handled the call from the morgue?" Garret quizzed. "Never mind!" He reached for his cell phone once they were outdoors and dialed Detective Roz Framus. "If we find out that it isn't Jordan, then we'll need to know whothe hell is lying in the morgue, and what she could possibly have to do with Jordan's disappearance!" he thoughtaloud as he waited for Roz to pick up.

-----

Drew Haley wondered how much longer they were going to let him live. His left eye was swollen shut, probably black and blue and maybe even shades of red. He could barely feel his right leg, and he could hardly breathe. He probably had a broken rib or two. Miranda. The thought of her turning on him made the bile rise up in his throat. She'd been his best trainee in the last several years, always on top, striving to be the best. Her betrayal sickened him completely. They had almost -- almost -- had a relationship, but then she'd gone under cover. It put distance between them, and apparently something more. Her eyes were no longer soft with what once could have blossomed into love, but cold and hard and steely. Like the eyes of a stranger. Or a killer. And he'd seen enough of both to know…

Even if Clay Casey, his Bureau chief, was missing him, it would be more than difficult to track Miranda down. She'd trained with the best, knew what clues they would look for. His only hope lie in the fact that Jordan had taken his case file by mistake. He'd noticed not long after they had parted, opening the ME's own file, her notes jumbled and scrawled hastily -- not his neat block-printed and orderly style. In fact, he had been on his way to retrieve the file when Miranda and her pals had overtaken him. If Jordan rifled through the file, she would see in his notes that he had been a little suspicious of Charlie Parker to begin with. And she would find his notes from observing her autopsy…He had thought Parker's gun shot Vega, though he hadn't voiced it at the time, but he had jotted down some question marks alongside his notes from her observations…And although neat, the notes were not scripted in his usual fashion…He had been distracted -- by Jordan -- but he had wanted to make sure he had enough pieces of the puzzle to put together at a later time, enough thoughts jotted down so that he could stop to examine each small and seemingly insignificant detail. So possibly breaking from his usual style of investigation _could_ save his life…If only Jordan would look through that file!

But even during his musings a thought kept trying to surface from the back of his mind. There was something in there he didn't want Jordan to see…Something about her family, wasn't it? Ah, yes…He remembered with not a little pain. Why had he put all of those notes in that one file? It was something about her father, something it would hurt her to know…

-----

"Detective Hoyt…?" Woody stirred. He thought he had heard a voice and opened his eyes to see a dark-headed man in a collar - a priest - standing next to his bed, setting a small vessel on the nearby tray that Woody recognized as holding communion wafers. God, was he _that_ sick! Had the surgery been unsuccessful? Was he about to receive Last Rites? His face paled and he started to panic.

"Calm down, kid….You aren't dying or anything…._I_ sent for Paul. Jordan once told me you were Catholic," Max explained, his face a mask of calm.

Paul….Paul….Why did that name ring a bell? He groaned in remembrance. Of course. Jordan's high school sweetheart…a man she'd actually loved. Jordan. Thinking about her was almost unbearable right now. Jordan…And was that actually _Max_ sitting at the foot of his bed! What the hell was going on! He vaguely remembered overhearing a conversation between Max and Doctor Macy. But it seemed like ages ago, if it hadn't been just a dream. He struggled to think clearly. Hadn't Nigel been in his room not that long ago? And Doctor Macy? He looked toward the tray. The letter from Jordan was gone…Had she really left him a letter? He really couldn't think, his mind was cluttered from pain killers…or had it been sedatives? He started to speak, his mouth like cotton. "Jordan's…"

But Max interrupted him, clearing his throat. "Paul's also here for my benefit…A confession of sorts. It's time you knew the truth about some things…"

-----


	11. Running Away

**_A/N: The usual and standard disclaimer. Writer's block has been haunting me, so I hope you all don't hate this chapter. I'm working on the next several at one time and - as always - trying to keep those annoying little details straight. I have a new admiration for the writers! Anyway, please read and review. Thanks for the many comments, I appreciate them (and use them to show off to dh once in a while!)_**

**PART XI - RUNNING AWAY**

"Detective Hoyt?" a little balding man called from the doorway.

Woody was groggy and he soon knew why. He winced as he tried to move his foot and accidentally kicked at his tray. He had asked the nurse for a sedative after Max's rather eye-opening visit the evening before. He had wanted to forget what he'd heard. His heart ached for Jordan -- an innocent victim in a long-standing and dangerous game of politics and blood money and…Well, he'd rather not think about it. No wonder she didn't trust anyone, he thought. It hurt him even more to know that she had _tried_ to trust _him_, with her feelings, and he had shot her down.

His head had throbbed with the details that Max had set forth for him and Paul. When he had asked Max what prompted the older man to confide in him, Max had paused a few minutes to consider the question...

"_Well…" he started, unsure of how to broach the subject. He looked Woody square in the eye. "I know - have known - that you're probably in love with Jordan…And I know she loves you. It'll take some time for her to admit it, but I can't recall her ever being so close to anyone, with the exception of Paul, here…"_

"_That was so long ago…" Paul had interrupted, trying to assure the detective. "Jordan told me you had asked her about our relationship. Well, once I decided to enter the priesthood, the romance was over. I just needed her - still need her at times - as a friend…If it helps to know this, she was almost glad you were jealous…She mentioned that you had both been skirting the issue of your relationship and she wasn't really sure how things stood at that point…But really, Jordan is just my friend. There's no need to worry about anything more developing between us…"_

_Woody had apologized, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Jordan was so unpredictable, but for her to talk about this stuff to Paul, a priest…It made him feel worse._

_Paul smiled. "Don't, really…There's no need to apologize. I had second thoughts after Father Castinelli's death -- about the priesthood only, not about getting involved again with Jordan." He smiled knowingly at Max. "She is an amazing woman, but I honestly don't think I could ever handle her!" Paul admitted, smiling his assurance._

_Both Max and Woody nodded with understanding. Jordan Cavanaugh was more than enough woman for any man, and Woody knew he wanted a second chance now as much as he knew he wanted to walk again. He frowned. "I might have ruined it for good…" he began. "She actually told me she loved me…And I kicked her out of my room."_

_Max whistled. "Stupid move. But really now, kid…If it took Jordan a few years to admit she loved you, I doubt her feelings will cool that easy. We Cavanaughs are not quite that fickle!" Max defended his daughter._

"_I know, but I said…"_

"_Trust me, she might feel hurt for a while, but she'll come around…" Max said with the authority of one who knew._

"_Love shouldn't be so complicated," Woody groaned._

"_That's true, it shouldn't. But it is. Besides, no one who has ever fallen for my daughter before has survived this long…I think you'll do fine. Plus, Hoyt…I trust you with Jordan…That's not something a father ever readily admits to. You've come through this far, I'm sure you can handle her," Max gave Woody one of his rare smiles. "That is, if we find her…Garret called me a little while ago…"_

"_I know. He and Nigel stopped by earlier. I need to get the hell out of this damn bed!" he cursed, then hurriedly apologized again to Paul. "Sorry, Father…"_

"_Don't worry…I understand it's been a rough week for you, Detective. And I'm still just human…" They were all silent for a moment. Paul suggested they pray, for Woody's recovery and Jordan's safety, and the two men bowed their heads along with the priest as he called out to their God on behalf of the Cavanaugh family. "And please, Father, please return Jordan to the safety of those who love her…Help us find her soon, healthy and alive. Amen…" his voice softly implored._

"_We'll find her -- Make no mistake about that!" Woody added after his 'Amen.'_

"_Well, it's good to see you're determined. But there's more to the story than even_ I_ know. And it's time we both found out the truth - the whole truth. I need to find my daughter. And finally clear my name. Those bastards ruined my life…" Max added, "If they harm one hair on her head, I'll…" But Paul stopped him before he could continue._

The men had tried to make small talk after that, but finally departed, leaving Woody to rest.

So Woody had been sitting in his bed, digesting the information he'd been given, his sleuthing skills picking up threads of the conversation where Max's body language had changed ever so slightly, as if he'd still held back a little.

In the middle of all the turmoil, miraculously his legs started to ache. It had been the first time he'd really felt them since the shooting, and he felt a mixture of relief and fear. They hurt real bad, and he wondered how difficult full recovery would be - if it was even a remote possibility. He needed to get up and find Jordan. Doctor Roberts had apparently felt that he could start physical therapy, and he was just waiting for the therapist to arrive and check him over.

His thoughts were brought back to the present by a cough from the foot of his bed. "Are you my therapist?" he finally asked, eyeing the little man in the suit.

Howard Stiles laughed and shook his head. "Uh, sort of…Not physical therapy. Mental therapy. I'm the State Psychologist and I'm here to talk about why you're here…"

Woody frowned. "I don't think I'm ready to deal with that just yet," he said as politely but dismissively as he could muster.

"Sorry, but you don't really have a choice. You see, I'm the one who decides if you're ready to go back to work - strictly from the mental point of view, you understand. I mean, the doctors will have to release you to be able to physically get back to your rounds on the streets or whatever…" he looked down at his notes, feigning ignorance, even though he had reviewed Hoyt's file just that morning. "Oh, Homicide I see. Well, I get to decide if you even have a future at a desk job until the doctor's release comes. So…where should we begin? I don't have much background information. Why don't we start there…?" Howard lied and finally paused, waiting for Detective Hoyt to speak.

"There's really nothing to tell," he tried, his mind wandering between Max's revelation and the fear of failing in the physical therapy, never walking again.

"Oh, come on, Detective…There's _always _something to tell. What about your family? Do you have relatives in Boston? A significant other somewhere?"

Woody shook his head. "No…No one here. I have an aunt and uncle in Wisconsin. And a brother - somewhere. That's all." He looked down toward the foot of the bed where his useless legs were hidden under the sheet. No one in Boston…He hated the sound of that. Boston had become his home. He couldn't imagine being anywhere else now. And to feel that he had no one…It hurt. Deeply. But he didn't want this shrink guy to know it, so he tried to smile one of his bright, winning smiles,dimples and all. "Nothing else, really."

"Not convincing enough…" Howard said, chuckling a little. The man in the bed was trying to be charming…They always did when they were trying to convince you that they didn't need therapy. "Alright. So. This is where I delve into the more focused, but dreadfully boring, details of your background. What about your parents? And you don't know where your brother is? Were you close growing up? I actually have a sister who lives down past Fenway Park. She hates me," he smiled. "I see her on Christmas only…"

"And you're okay with that?" Woody was surprised by the admission, and Howard caught on. He must have had a close friendship with his brother, something Howard had never shared with Myra...

"Not exactly. But I can't say I'm surprised. I was the favorite, you see. More personality," Howard bragged. "That and my handsome features," he joked, turning so Woody could catch his profile. His face turned serious again. "But back to you, Detective…Were you close to your brother? What about your parents?"

Woody ignored the reference to Cal. "Both deceased,"he responded, his voice flat and void of emotion. He'd repeated it so many times for so many people over the years that he could actually keep a poker face and not let anyone see the agony and havoc their deaths had caused, albeit at different stages of his life.

"And how did that happen?" Stiles urged his patient to continue.

"My mom died when I was four. She had cancer. I barely remember her anymore," he said, a trace of regret in his voice. He had looked at her picture every day for years, until he had finally realized that he didn't know her and would never know her. Over the years, his aunt tried to resurrect her memory for him and for Cal, which had only grown to annoy him. Try as he might, he just couldn't summon the smell of her skin or the sound of her voice or the softness of her hands when she had brushed his tears away and soothed him from nightmares or bandaged a cut. He couldn't remember any of it, and felt as though he had betrayed her.

"Wow, that's pretty young to lose a parent. I have another patient I see from time to time…She lost her mother at a young age as well - a murder, actually. Hasn't ever gotten over it. Quite frankly, I don't know what will happen to her when she finds out what actually happened…But I digress -- I see you've been able to move on…" he looked down at the notes he'd scribbled from meeting with various detectives and officers who had worked with Woody. Stiles had done his homework, gathering information about the shooting and about the young man in general. "You seem pretty stable, pretty motivated. I see you've even won an award from the governor for bravery." Howard whistled, clearly impressed. Woody nodded, his cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment.

"It wasn't a big deal…" he stammered modestly.

"Humble too? Amazing…So-o. Tell me a littleabout your father? You mentioned that both parents were deceased?"

Woody nodded. "Yeah. He died when I was sixteen. Work-related." He tried to leave it at that, but Howard fished for more.

"What kind of work did your father do?"

"He…He was a…sheriff. In Wisconsin." Woody stopped to think about the shooting, his own shooting - and how he'd been so blind to think that no one would shoot him because he was likeable, even-tempered. Unlike his father…

Stiles' eyes widened. "So you decided to pursue a career in law and justice too? Was your father your hero?" he asked quietly.

"Hardly," Woody sneered. "He was strict, unforgiving at times. I mean…" he tried to recant, not wanting to make his father out to be the bad guy. "He did the best he could I guess, raising my brother and me after Mom died. He made sure we had food, clothes, shelter. That we went to church. That we got good grades…"

"So how, exactly, did he die? You said it was 'work-related'…" Stiles nudged.

"He was shot…" Woody whispered, closing his eyes, hoping he could continue to keep those memories hidden under the cool and calm veneer he'd tried to build. He'd kept emotions locked up for years and he wasn't going to let them loose now -- Jordan wasn't the only one who had her walls…

-----

Jordan pretended to sleep as she observed Cal from across the room. He had been snoring softly, occasionally turning left, then right, trying to get comfortable. He had gallantly let her have the bed and had slept in the chair across from it, his feet propped on the table. You could tell that he and Woody were brothers, she thought, studying his features. But Cal was definitely not as saintly, she thought with a smile, remembering how he'd hustled their way into a free room. They were still headed south, now on Route 81. Cal had driven through the night and now they were almost into Pennsylvania - a definite detour from Boston. But Cal was afraid Mr. Bo-Sox was tailing them, and Jordan's safety was paramount, so he'd suggested going south and then circling back up north. So far it had worked, as neither of them had seen the man lurking around their currentmotel yet.

"Like what you see?" Cal asked, one eye open and peeking out at her.

"Cal!" Jordan blushed and threw her pillow at him.

"What?" he asked feigning innocence, then grabbing the pillow mid-air and propping it behind him. "Just kidding…Say, I was thinking and, uh, well -- I was wondering something…"

Jordan sat up, clutching the thin sheet and blanket to her. "Yeah, I'll bite…" she started, knowing that Cal had not finished questioning her...She'd escaped thatconversation, but only temporarily. They'd been quiet during most of the trip, and she'd finally managed to get a few hours' sleep.

He stood and stretched, peering out through the blind to make sure they hadn't been discovered. "If you didn't know you were being followed, where were you going? I mean, Woody's still in the hospital. I just thought…" He stopped, turning to look at her. "I thought you were in love with him."

Jordan looked down at the blanket, her smile fading. "I, uh…Oh, hell…I am…" she offered softly, a tear escaping and trailing down her cheek. "I just…He just…Well, it's, uh…complicated…" She brushed her hand across her face, wiping away the trace of emotion.

"It's Woody, so it can't be too complicated…" Cal began, moving toward the door. "He's about as Boy Scout as they come…Very predictable. Always has been, at least ever since I can remember."

"Hey, give the man some credit…He can be dark and mysterious…" Jordan defended, smiling as she remembered certain situations where the detective had actually surprised her by breaking away from his usual predictability. "He's not the naïve Wisconsin sheriff he used to be."

Cal shook his head. "I don't believe it…Woody won't ever change. Not that radically anyway…Believe me, I _know_…" his voice trailed.

Jordan looked over at him, saddened by the strained relationship the brothers seemed to share. "He really is a great guy, Cal…And I _do_ love him. It took me forever to admit it to myself." Her voice was full of regret. "But…" She hastily changed the subject. She was half surprised that she had admitted that much before she knew whether or not she was going to trust Cal. Maybe it was too late to decide, she thought, stretching her legs out in front of her and watching his face. "Lord knows that your brother has rescued my ass too many times to count…The other day -- I found something. I left because I…I just couldn't put him in any more danger."

"Danger? That's my middle name…" Cal started.

"Oh? I thought it was 'Trouble'…" Jordan shot back, trying to lighten the conversation. He raised an eyebrow at her and sat back down. "Besides, I thought we were talking about Woody…And his middle name is not 'Danger'…"

"Yeah, more like 'I Told You So'," Cal said acidly. He stretched and turned to peer out of the blinds again. "So…Back to my Twenty Questions…Where exactly were you going?"

"I don't know."

"Good. That makes things a little easier. I mean, we can double back to Boston, since it's not like you have plans somewhere else. But you have to be honest with me, Jordan. What were you running from? I've run enough times in my life, and I don't think I've ever just left without my house keys. I grab them from habit if nothing else. Were you really not going back -- ever?"

"I hadn't really planned to go back…" Jordan looked over at her suitcase, knowing that she would probably show Cal Haley's file at some point. She reached over, leaning dangerously half-off the bed, trying to grab at it, and succeeded in un-zippering the suitcase half-way before she fell off the bed with a thud.

"Quiet…People will think we're up to something!" Cal joked, his eyebrow raised, a grin on his handsome face.

"Cal!" she screeched, her cheeks flaming, before turning to rifle through the suitcase andthrowing a pile of clothes onto the floor.

"I didn't think you blushed…" he remarked, leaning forward in the chair. "Although maybe I just never caught you at one of those moments. Last time, it seemed like Woody was doing most of the blushing. Remember?" Cal reached up and turned her face toward his. "Seriously. What's going on? If you really do love my brother, why are you running away?" He opened his mouth to tell her about her El Camino and her mess of an apartment, but thought better of it. That was news that he hoped he could keep from her at least until they got back to the city.

She brushed him away and pushed herself up off the floor, before her other arm became lost in the suitcase again. "I'm getting to that…" Her head disappeared under the half-zippered flap.

"Why don't you just unzip it all the way?" Cal asked, trying to hold in his laughter.

"Oh, I never do anything the easy way…Woody would be the first to tell you that…" she said before finally appearing with a thick manilla file folder. "It's all in here…" she offered.

"What is?"

Jordan shook her head, still shocked at what she had learned. "Well, most of it is a case file…A case I started working the other day. The rest -- It's about my…father. I still have no idea what was going on, but this one slip of paper…"

"That can't be good…" Cal said, noting her downcast eyes. "Is he okay? I mean, your father…Is he okay?"

"Depends on your definition, I guess…If you mean is he still alive, well -- I don't know. I haven't heard from him in a while. If you mean is he _okay_ -- well, I doubt it. All the lies I've heard all my life…I just - I just don't know anything about him anymore…" Jordan's tone was bitter. "C'mon, I'm sure you don't want to hear all the sordid details of my life…" she began. "That would take a long time…"

"Actually, it turns out that I'm free for breakfast," Cal said, his mouth turning up in a smile. "How 'bout it…On the condition, of course, that you don't ever tell Woody…He might think I was trying to, um..."

"Ah, Mary Alice MacKenzie, was it?" Jordan smiled, referring to the infamous prom date.

Cal smiled. "You know, she really _did_ break up with him first," he told her in all seriousness as she pulled him toward the door. "Oops! Wait a sec…"

He reached into his pocket for a penny and slipped it carefully between the door jamb and the door itself. "This isn't the kind of place where I'd expect room service, so…" he said with small apology. She nodded in agreement as he carefully closed the door.

"Smart," Jordan said with admiration, hoping the coin would still be there when they returned.

-----

Garret threw open the door to Autopsy Three, walking right to the slab where the body of a woman about Jordan's size waited, obviously burnt beyond recognition. Jack Slocum was peeling off his gloves. "Hello there, Garret…Don't worry, it isn't her…" he began, his voice steady and in control.

"Then who the hell is it? Detective Framus found the body in Jordan's El Camino…What was this woman doing there?"

"We're trying to match up dental records now. I have Bug working on that. I wanted to talk to you anyway. Why don't we go into my office…"

"You mean _my _office," Garret said acidly.

Slocum merely nodded, holding the door open for Garret. "I need to ask you a little about Doctor Cavanaugh. Quite frankly, she has a history of -- shall we say -- going off the deep end. Do you think she's capable of murder?"

"Surely you aren't suggesting that Jordan torched her own vehicle and murdered someone in the process?"

"No, I'm not…Not with all the other weird incidents that have occurred in the past forty-eight hours. I just wanted to rule out the possibility."

"Always so thorough," Garret commented dryly. Slocum raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Look, I want you to pull every single resource you have at your disposal and find Jordan…"

Slocum nodded, his fingers slowly and deliberately arranging the paperwork that sat in the middle of his otherwise uncluttered desk. Lily had taken away the files that morning, and now there was no trace of Jack's witch hunt. "Garret…I think I can convince the governor to put you back on the payroll, but with all the press, it might not be easy, and I doubt you would be reinstated as CME right away…" he said finally. Garret looked at him in surprise. "True, I love being in control. But this morgue is what it is because _you_ built it up…"

"Damn straight I did!"

"The morale of the employees, it astounds me…" Jack continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I looked through every single one of your files, every single one of their files…No mistakes. Except that Moreau case. Nothing else. All the work was - is - above board. Excellent…"

"I don't need you telling me how great this office is. I already know. What I need you to do is track down Doctor Cavanaugh…"

"And I plan on attending to that. It's our top priority...I need to know - " Jack was interrupted.

"Bridget Carter…" Bug burst into the room, his eyes bright with relief. "It's _not_ Jordan! Her name is Bridget Carter. She's been missing for months, about the same time Haley's agents went undercover."

"Well, find out where she was," Garret ordered. "I want to know anything and everything we can about how this woman lived, disappeared, spent her last few hours…"

Bug looked from Garret to Slocum and smiled when the older man didn't challenge Garret's authority. "Yes, sir, Doctor Macy!" Now there were two reasons to be relieved, he thought, happily heading back toward Trace.

-----

Cal bit his lip, trying to hold in his laughter. Jordan was telling him about some of her escapades with Woody, and it was all he could do not to burst out laughing right in the middle of the restaurant. He just couldn't imagine some of the scenes Jordan had described, thinking back to his childhood with Woody watching over him…It was like she was describing a stranger. Apparently, Jordan Cavanaugh brought out some sides to his brother that he hadn't known existed. Finally, the waitress brought their food and he had time in their silence to compose himself. But every now and then he would smile thinking about Woody doing this or that…He wished he could've known Woody's fun-loving, carefree side and determined that he would mend their relationship as soon as possible.

The waitress came over and interrupted them to take their orders. After that, the conversation dwindled. "I thought you were going to talk to me a bit about that file…" Cal looked pointedly at the folder on the table next to Jordan.

"I'll get to it…I just need to talk myself into it first." Her smile faded and Cal left her alone with her thoughts.

-----

Nigel stood outside Woody's room. "Should I tell him?"

Lily nodded. "I think you have to…After telling him Jordan was missing, he's bound to start asking some of his friends to get him some information. If he finds out Jordan's car...Or that you knew Cal was there…" Lily didn't finish her thoughts, but looked pointedly at Nigel.

"Right. Great. How do I even start?" he muttered to himself.

"You start by walking into that room, Nigel. Go…" Lily nudged him and followed, closing the door behind her.

"Hi guys!" Woody tried to be bright. His legs were bothering him, and he tried to shift on the bed. "Hey, can you move this damn thing for a minute?" He indicated the tray, and Lily pulled it toward the window. She saw him move one leg and then the other.

"Oh my God! You can move your legs! Woody, that's _wonderful_!"

Nigel shook Woody's hand. "Congratulations, man. That's great! We'll have you back on the streets of Boston solving crimes in no time!"

Woody smiled, encouraged. "Right now there's only one mystery I want to solve…" He saw Lily and Nigel exchange glances before Nigel turned to stare out the window, and his smile faded. "What? What's wrong? Have you -- found anything?" he swallowed, almost afraid to ask.

Lily nodded, but Nigel remained silent.

"Nigel? Come on, man…You have to tell me…Is she okay?"

Finally, Nigel turned around, his eyes slightly tearing. "We don't know…Her El Camino was found yesterday, a woman's body burned…"

"_What_!" Woody's face became ashen.

"Ni-gel!" Lily reprimanded. "It wasn't Jordan, Woody…" she assured him. "Bug called me a little while ago to confirm it -it was someone else. But…" she turned to the criminalist. "Nigel, a little help here…"

"I dusted her door for prints. I found a perfect latent print…seemed to be fresh. I mean, there weren't any prints on top of it, or smudging it, or..." he stopped, not sure he wanted to continue.

"So did you get a match? Did you drag the bastard in for questioning? Whose print was it!" Woody was starting to get worked up again and Nigel feared that he would need to call the nurse for another sedative.

"Cal."

"What about Cal?" Woody asked, trying to sit up. "What does Cal have to do with this? Where's Jordan?"

"Woody…the print belonged to Cal…"

"But Cal was never at Jordan's apartment the last time he was in town. He stayed at my place…Oh god! You don't think…?" He collapsed back on the bed, his emotions truly drained. "What does Cal have to do with Jordan's disappearance?"

Nigel shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he has nothing to do with it…She had me try to track him down when you were brought in."

"No," Woody was shaking his head, his tone full of hurt and anger and fear. "No…If Cal is around, he had something to do with it. That man is bad news!"

"That '_man'_ is your brother!" Lily defended.

"Only by blood…I've had it with him and his gambling and drinking and his drug habits and god-knows what else…You can bet that he had something to do with this…And if he did, that man is a dead man as soon as I can get out of this bed!"

Lily was shocked. "You -You don't mean it!"

"Oh don't I? He almost had her killed before. If he hurt one hair on Jordan's head…I'm not gonna' bail his ass out this time. As far as I'm concerned, Cal is a wanted man…" The venom in Woody's voice scared them.

-----

Cal and Jordan had finished their breakfast and were drinking coffee, with minimal chitchat. After a few minutes, Jordan's eyes started to dart around the room, and Cal knew she was trying to see if someone was still following them. At the same time, he noticed her wistfulness and figured she was reliving all of her memories with his brother, as if it were finally over, and that thought sobered him. "Jordan…" he started gently.

She looked up at him, her eyes damp from a combination of laughter and tears, and smiled for his benefit. "Don't worry about it, Cal…Really. If he is okay, then that's all I need to hear. I need to move on. At least, that's what I keep telling myself…"

"I don't think that's the case…At least let's get back to Boston and let me talk to him…"

She shook her head, then paused as a man wearing a Boston Red Sox hat casually strolled in to the dining room and glanced around. She ducked down, pretending to fish a napkin off the floor, before his eyes could settle on her. "I think he's here…Look over by the register, Cal!" Jordan whispered. "You said medium height and build, dark hair, Bo-Sox hat…"

"Son of a bitch!" Cal swore. "We've got to get you out of here…"

"Yeah, but I don't think the bathroom window will work this time!" she hissed. "How can I get past him? He's blocking the doorway!"

Cal surveyed the situation, his face grim. "C'mere and kiss me!" he pulled at Jordan, trying to get her into his lap.

"What!" she bat at his hand with her fist. "Did you not hear anything I said, about your brother? You know, how I have _feelings - _for _him_!"

"Just trust me!" he said, feigning confidence, and pulled her to him when the Bo-Sox guy looked the other way. "You can't stay bent over all day. Just pretend we're together…_together_…and maybe we can get out without him getting a good look at you."

"At least not from the front!" Jordan was indignant. "It's gotta' be, what, fifty feet at least to the counter, then another few to the register and the doorway…Are we supposed to just kiss our way through the restaurant!"

Just then, the waitress walked over. "Hey," Cal said in a half-whisper. "I need a little help with something. You see that guy over there?" He pointed and she nodded, moving closer. "Well, he used to beat up my fianceè here, and I want to get her out of here without him noticing us…You got a back way?"

The waitress, a girl named Cis with bleached hair piled on top of her head, cracked her gum. "Oh, honey, you can go through the kitchen." She pointed toward the swinging doors. "Just give me a sec and I'll try to get him to turn around…I hate wife beaters...Or women beaters anyway." Cis glared, then waltzed over to the man, her hips swaying seductively. "Hey sugar!" they heard her as she sidled up to the man, her hand running up and down his arm. "You need a table? You can sit in my section…" she brushed against him and turned him toward the opposite corner from where Jordan still sat in Cal's lap.

"Your _fianceè_!" she rose, grabbing Haley's file while Cal threw some cash on the table, watching to make sure their guy was still distracted. It looked like Cis was doing a great job.

"Hey, we're getting out, aren't we?" Cal hissed as they quickly walked through the double doors. "Don't worry, I left her a nice tip!" The kitchen personnel were staring and Cal quickly related the woman-beater story before someone pointed them toward the back door. "Thanks a lot!" he called over his shoulder just before Justin Page burst into the kitchen.

"Run!" one of the chefs cried out, someone else tripping Justin before he could reach the back door. He pulled a gun and began shooting at Cal and Jordan.

Cal instinctively pushed Jordan out of the way and dove across her. He tripped and stumbled to get up. "Come on!" she yelled, already up and running ahead of him. They raced around the corner and jumped into the van. "Let's go! Step on it!"

The van lurched forward and peeled out of the parking lot, Justin Page catching a glimpse of Jordan in the passenger seat before they disappeared around the corner. "Oh, god…I think he got a look at the van…"

"Jordan…He had to have seen us leave that first motel somehow if he tracked us here. We have to get back to Boston. I won't feel safe until I know you are…" He was silent for a few moments. "I'll have to swing by the hotel…Most of my cash is in my duffle bag. Do you need anything?"

Jordan nodded and sighed, her brain fighting to think clearly. "Just grab whatever you can…" What were their options? "I could always call Haley…" she offered. But Cal could tell she wasn't ready to talk to the man who had dug up more than she even knew about her own past.

"Look, I don't think you're ready to call him. I think we should talk to Woody first…"

"No!" she cried out. "_Absolutely not_! First, he doesn't want me in his life. Second, he's not your biggest fan either. And third…" she paused, unsure of what to say next, of how to explain why she thought that everyone she loved and cared about could be in danger if they returned to the northern city. She sighed again. Maybe she should just look at the file again. But some of the words - the names - that had jumped up from the page - Irish mob, high-ranking government officials, her own father - they had all been playing a dangerous game…And she wasn't about to lose Woody because of it. "No, Cal…No way."

"Well - You got a better idea? You can't run from him forever, Jordan."

"That's exactly what I _can _do…"

"No. You've got to face your feelings, make him face his. You and I both need his help…It makes the best sense."

"Cal, no…please," she protested and pleaded, but the determined look on his face assured her that they were going back to Boston, if not right away then very soon.

-----


	12. Jordan, Jordan Where Are You?

_**A/N: The usual disclaimer, wish I did own characters, I like where this story is going so far. Wish I could at least meet JOC, but I guess I'll just keep dreamin' there, right? Anyhow...I am anxious for Season 5 to start! Meanwhile, back to my saga...It's funny how those little details evolve sometimes...I found a discrepancy that lent itself to a deeper mystery -- it wasn't planned this way, but that's why I check and re-check before I post and usually catch all those little things. Well, I missed one, but I just wove it back in. Anyway, sorry I always take so long to update...I read so many fanfics too and I hate to be left hanging, so you would think I could move along a little faster, but I guess creativity doesn't run real fast for me at times...Thank you for your patience, and most importantly for reading and reviewing!**_

**PART XII - JORDAN, JORDAN - WHERE ARE YOU?**

"Nigel…" Lily began, once they were out of the hospital and headed back toward the morgue. "I need to talk to you…"

Nigel bent his lanky frame down toward Lily to hear her better. "What's that, love?" He indicated the heavy traffic, and pointed toward the coffee shop nearby. "Let's stop a bit, shall we?" he practically hollered. She nodded and followed him as he crossed the street, stepping quickly to match her pace with his long, leggy strides.

"Cappucino please…" she told the barista before turning to Nigel again. "Say Nige…What do you do when you think you don't have romantic feelings for someone you know has romantic feelings for you and then you decide you do have romantic feelings for that person too?"

"Huh?" Nigel looked up as he retrieved a napkin. "Care to repeat that?"

Lily look flustered, but she attempted it again. "There's this guy…And I _know_ he likes me…"

"Ah, Detective Seeley, eh? He's not so personable…I think you could do better…" He turned to the barista. "Carmel mocchiato with whipped cream, please."

She ignored him and went on. "At least…I know he did like me at one time…What if I decided that now I do, in fact, like this guy too…I mean, he's liked me for a while, and I haven't really encouraged him…" They continued to shuffle along down the line, Lily grabbing at a napkin for herself.

"Seriously, love," Nigel said, grabbing his drink after paying. "…Seeley is detestable at times. I think you're the only one he's ever nice to, and that's rare anyway. I think our Lily can do much better."

"Nigel…It's _not_ Seeley…It's someone else -- someone I've, uh, known a long time…" Lily looked down at her cup, her cheeks a becoming shade of pink.

"Whoa Nellie! You aren't saying…?" Nigel started, as the realization slowly dawned on him. "It's not…_Buggles_, is it?" Lily blushed even more. "A-ha! So it is our Bug!" he cried triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear. His look changed to one of brotherly concern. "But love, why the change of heart?"

She sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "I don't know…He's just so - sweet. He's always been so nice to me and…This is silly…"

"No, go on…"

"He brought me some tea - to calm me down a bit - and he leaned down and kissed me and I…"

"He _kissed _you! Wow! That's great!" Nigel was beaming at her. "So what did you say? I mean, after…"

"I didn't get a chance…He left to do the autopsy…of the burn victim." She didn't mention anything about Jordan or Jordan's El Camino. "The problem is, now I don't know _what _to say… I mean, it's Bug, right? And I let him know before that he was only a friend, nothing more…So _now_ how do I act? I mean, it's not like I'm in love with him, but I could be - you know, over time…"

"The 'L' word…Hmmm…We'll have to think on that a bit. Let's just wait and see what he has to say first…"

"Do you think that's a good idea? I mean, he kissed me and ran before I could react -- Don't you think he'll be hurt or something if I don't say _anything_? I think I should say something. Oh, what should I say!" They walked into the building and stepped into the elevator. "Well? What should I say?" But Nigel was silent and thoughtful as the doors slid shut, heading toward the morgue, where Bug was finishing up in the autopsy room.

-----

Cal left the van running while he went to grab their bags from the motel, but he was back in an instant.

"What?" Jordan asked. "Where's our stuff?"

Cal shrugged, then pealed out of the parking lot. "I don't know…What I do know is that our friend was in our room. Or at least somebody was…"

"How?"

"Well, remember that penny?" Jordan nodded. "Gone. And so is your bag. And mine. But the room is a mess…the mattress springs were showing, the chairs were overturned. I hope you didn't leave anything too valuable in there…"

Jordan thought for a minute. "Son of a bitch!" she cried out. "I left my locket and my rosaries…stuff from my parents. Woody once rescued my locket for me…" she said wistfully. "I…" her eyes began to tear.

"Hey, it's okay. I promise -- I'll find them for you, once I get you safely to Woody. I can go look for this guy and find out what the hell he wants," Cal said with determination, gunning the vehicle east -- toward New York City and I-95 -- and then back to Boston. "But Jordan -- there is no way I'm going to let you out to look for it now. We have to get back to Woody…"

And Jordan nodded, not bothering to protest.

-----

Bug was working on the body of Bridget Carter with Sidney when Garret walked into the room in scrubs. No one said anything, each of them trying to find any piece of trace evidence that could tell them where the woman had been for the past six months or longer. "Find anything, guys?" Garret asked, stepping over to observe.

"Well, we have some dirt that was under her fingernails. So far, that's all," Bug offered. "I'll send it to the lab."

"That can't be the only thing…" Garret said. "I want you to comb her body thoroughly. There's an answer here somewhere. And when we find it, hopefully we'll be able to find Jordan…" He paused, his voice thick with emotion.

"Don't worry, Doctor Macy -- we're on it," Sidney assured him.

Garret smiled a little. "I know. You guys are the best of the best…"

"Hey Doctor M. -- Welcome back!" Nigel said as he stepped into the room.

"Thanks, Nigel. I'm not out of hot water yet…But it's good to be back just the same. For now, I need all of you," he looked at them, including Nigel in the mix. "We need to find out where Bridget Carter was. Nigel, I need to talk to you about that letter you took from Woody…"

"I didn't --"

"Nigel…We need to find out what's going on," Garret said simply. The criminalist nodded and followed Garret out of the room.

"Honest, Doctor M…It doesn't help us at all. It just says goodbye. That she loves him but she's leaving."

"Do you think Jordan really left Boston on her own?"

"I don't see how that's possible…Unless someone knew she was going to leave and waited for her to go before torching her vehicle and breaking into her apartment…That way we wouldn't bother to look for her, and Woody wouldn't either. The letter was written by Jordan herself."

"Are you sure?"

"I'd know that writing anywhere…And the things she wrote to Woody -- well, they were intensely personal things -- things I don't think anyone else knew, and a few things I'd only guessed at before," Nigel blushed a little. "If it weren't for the fact that Jordan specifically bid Woodrow her goodbyes, I would show it to him, you know -- see if he had any ideas…But with her missing, I don't think it's a good idea."

"You're probably right. He's almost out of the woods, at least as far as the surgeries go. Physical therapy might take a while, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was back on the force in a few months…"

"Unless he's out looking for Jordan…"

"Well, for now, keep that letter under wraps. I mean no one -- not Slocum, and _especially_ not Woody -- needs to see it right now. In the meantime, we need to get back into Jordan's apartment and see what we can find…"

"Right, Doctor M. I'm on it!" Nigel started to leave but felt Garret's arm on his shoulder.

"Not without me…I'll drive."

-----

"Eddie! Hey, man - How are you?" Woody greeted Eddie Winslow as the other detective knocked on his door.

"Hey, I hear you're gonna' be just fine. Congratulations!"

Woody gave a wide smile. "Doctor Roberts and Doctor Turner are going to send a physical therapist down one of these days, so hopefully it won't be too long before I'm outta' here. I have a few cases I need to work on…"

"That's what I'm here to talk to you about. I need to go over a few things with you, some of your cases that were reassigned when you got shot."

"Sure, man. Which ones?" Woody tried to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach when Eddie mentioned the shooting.

Eddie looked down at the notepad he was carrying. "Specifically the Garcia and Jones cases. We have a Mrs. Luz Garcia calling every other day to find out where we are on the investigation…"

"Yeah, Mrs. G. is really nice," Woody remembered the Latino woman fondly. "She just doesn't want anyone to forget about her husband. It seems that Wil Garcia was a step away from drug and alcohol addiction, and she doesn't want us to leave the trail cold because we might think her husband was a low-life scum."

"Any ideas on who killed him?"

"Well, an old buddy of his, Juan Morcado, was paroled about two weeks before the murder, and Mrs. G. said that Juan called Wil from prison right before that. I hadn't been able to contact him before…you know, the, um..." His voice trailed off.

"Hey, it's okay…" Eddie said, noting the change. He tried to steer the subject away from the detective's shooting. "How about Jones?"

Woody shifted his thoughts, glad for the change in conversation. "Hanging, ruled not suicide by the ME's Office. God…You should probably be talking to Jordan about this one…She had an interesting theory…"

"Theories don't belong in the ME's Office…" Eddie started, not wanting to rehash his rocky memories of the beautiful medical examiner and her father.

"Well, she had the forensic evidence to back up her theory anyway," Woody defended, his heart beating a little rapidly.

Eddie tried to calm him down. "Look, you don't need to stress out. I know how Jordan operated. Sometimes I think she had too much cop in her to be an ME, but that's what made her a really great ME." He paused, a frown on his face. "I heard about the call to her apartment…" he started softly.

Woody caught the detective's past-tense. "Jordan's not dead…" Woody told him. "I got word from the ME's office. It wasn't her in the El Camino. It was some other girl -- a Bridget Carter."

"That name mean anything to you?" Eddie quizzed.

Woody shook his head. "Never heard of her before today. But I would like to know why she was in Jordan's car…And where she was before that." He paused. "Any word from Agent Haley? To anyone? I mean, it's hard to believe this FBI profiler would just up and disappear and no one would know anything about it." His voice had gone up and Eddie tried to calm him down.

"Look, I'll see what I can dig up. I know that the Acting CME was there yesterday with one of his guys - Dr. Townsend I think - trying to dust for prints. If our guys missed anything, maybe they got something that will help. Just stay in bed and rest up…"

"I need to find Jordan," Woody said, his heart on his sleeve, and Eddie shook his head in wonder.

"Hey -- I'll do what I can. I promise…I owe it to Jordan, and to Max," he said quietly, remembering his role in having Max kicked off the force with regret. "I'll let you know what I find out. Thanks for the information. And Woody," Eddie said as he reached the door. "Jordan is pretty resourceful if nothing else. I'm sure she'll be okay…" he told the other detective with more confidence than he felt.

"Yeah," Woody tried to smile. _Let's hope so_, he thought, wondering where she could be. He looked out the window, where the sunlight was quickly fading. _Jordan, Jordan…Where are you?_

-----

"Drew, honey…We're going for a little ride!" Miranda cooed, before untying his hands. She knew Haley was too weak to try to get away, at least for the moment. He groaned. "It seems we have to pay a personal visit. Your little female friend disappeared - with _your file_, Drew, imagine the gall! - and now I have to go and find her. You see, I can't wait on you anymore." She saw him open his eyes. They flickered in horror and panic. She laughed. "You must think I'm ready to kill you off! Oh not just yet, darlin'…I might need you to help with this troublesome medical examiner. So count your blessings, Drew. You'll live another day. At least til we get to Boston…" she told him, her words dripping saccharine and sarcasm.

Drew closed his eyes, his muscles sore, his head throbbing, his mind focused on only one thought. He was going to live another day.

-----

"Bingo!"

"What? What've you got?" Sidney walked over to Bug, hoping that he had found something helpful. The fire had damaged almost all of the trace evidence, and what the fire hadn't burned, the rain had most likely washed away. There wasn't much left on Bridget Carter that told them anything.

"Ever hear of forensic palynology?" Sidney started to say something, but Bug interrupted him and continued after clearing his throat. "Forensic palynology refers to the use of pollen and spore -- and sometimes other microscopic organisms like acritarchs, chitinozoans and din flagellates that can be found in fresh and marine environments. I don't know if you were aware, but forensic palynology has applications in a multitude of sciences…For example, of course forensic science, but also in geology, geography, botany, entomology, zoology, archaeology, immunology, and environmental science."

"So it's multi-disciplinatory…" Sidney said. "So what?"

"Well, if some people would let me finish…" Bug teased. "You see, each plant type has its own distinctive pollen that can be distinguished from pollen of other plants, like humans have their own individual set of prints…We can use the pollens and spores to help solve crimes. It's possible in many cases to look at the pollen types that occur in any given sample to narrow down where a person or thing has been -- not just in general, but specifically. Pollen can not only help destroy or prove alibis, link suspects to the scenes of crimes, or link something left at the crime scene to a suspect -- Pollen can also help to determine what country or state different things -- like drugs, food, merchandise, and antiques -- have come from..."

"Oh yeah," Sidney interjected. "I remember. There was this case in Sweden where some experts examined dirt attached to a woman's clothing. They used the pollens and spores to determine whether she was killed where she was found or killed elsewhere and then dumped." He paused.

"Yeah, that was the earliest cases in which pollen data were considered important forensic evidence," Bug finished. "Unfortunately, the murder was not ever solved because there were two different opinions regarding the pollen and grasses. Anyway, there was another case in Austria. The conviction of the criminal was based on the pollen sample. They didn't have a body, as I recall. But mud on the soles of the suspect's boots contained willow, modern spruce, and alder pollen, and a special type of 20 million-year-old, Miocene-age fossil hickory pollen grain present in the mud. They used the pollen samples to narrow the possible crime scene down to a small area 20 kilometers north of Vienna along the Danube Valley. When the defendant was confronted, he not only confessed, but showed the authorities where he had buried the body of his victim!" Bug cried triumphantly.

"Don't we already analyze dirt samples?" Sidney asked, not too impressed.

Bug muttered something intelligible. "Of course we do. But, you see, it's the pollen in this one that will help us find out where Bridget Carter has been all these months…" He held up a prepared slide, a small sample of pollen waiting to be identified centered neatly in a droplet of water.

-----

Jordan slipped her hand into Cal's and they walked slowly toward the counter. "Hiya'. My name's Harry. Can I help you folks?" a kind voice asked. A forty-ish man stood behind the counter wearing a striped button-down dress shirt and khaki pants. He was fumbling with his tie.

"We - my finaceè and I - would like to get a car. I'm tradin' in my van here for something more, uh, family." Cal said with a fake drawl, putting his arm around Jordan's shoulder.

The dealer looked at them knowingly and smiled. "Sure, we can help. Got anything specific in mind?" The pair looked around the lot even as the man stepped out toward them. "Here, let's go take a look, shall we?" he asked. Jordan nodded.

"You lead the way," Cal said, following him toward a row of nondescript vehicles.

"So, trading in the van…Little lady have any preferences? Two door? Four? Minivan?" Harry tried to get a feel for what they were after.

"Uh…how about a minivan?" Jordan asked, spotting a grayish one.

"A minivan? Really?" Cal groaned.

"Darling, you know I want a large family…Might as well get what we want now…" Jordan smiled wickedly at Cal. "Besides, it's gray and I think it will fit nicely in the neighborhood…"

"Oh, uh, yeah…I guess it will," Cal was surprised at Jordan's quick thinking. "We'll take that one," he said to the dealer.

"Don't you even want a test drive?" Harry was looking a little perplexed.

"He meant we'd like to _test drive _that one…Isn't that right, _honey_?" Jordan asked.

Cal smiled thinly at her. "Of course, _darling_…Anything you want…" He turned to Harry. "Yeah, we'd like to test drive that one."

Harry scratched his head. "Well, alright. If you're sure. I'll go get the keys. I'll just need to see a driver's license…" Cal fished in his front pocket for his wallet and handed it to him.

Once Harry had gotten out of ear shot, Cal whined to Jordan. "C'mon…a minivan? Can't we try something a little more upbeat? Maybe something fast enough to actually use in a getaway-type situation?"

"Hey, this whole trade-in thing was _your _idea…Besides, I thought the idea was to _not_ stand out…" she laughed at him. "I'm really sorry you have to trade in the van though…I hope the owner doesn't mind…"

"I'm not really going to trade it in…We don't have the title."

"Great. So how exactly are we gong to get away with this?"

"Trust me…I haven't let you down so far, have I?"

-----

"Doctor Turner…Doctor Roberts…" Woody offered in greeting. "So, what's the worst news?"

Doctor Roberts looked up from the chart. "Well, Detective…I hardly think there _is _any bad news at this point. You should regain full use of your lower extremities after a three month program of intense physical therapy…worst-case scenario would be six months. It really is up to you."

"Three months? That's…that's great!" Woody smiled and offered both doctors his thanks. They had just given him his life back, and this time he was determined to live it the way he wanted instead of always skirting around his own feelings, and be damned with the consequences. _And_, he thought to himself, _now I can tell Jordan how I really feel…_The thought of Jordan, possibly alone with Cal or being followed by the Albanian mob, made his smile fade - but only slightly. He would be able to walk, and then he would track her down, no matter how long it took.

-----

They had finally stopped for the night, close to the Massachusetts border, in the almost-new minivan. She didn't know how the hell Cal had managed to finagle the deal without the title to the other van. It was nearing midnight. Cal had nodded off quickly, but Jordan couldn't sleep. At first, she wondered if it was because they were sharing a bed. There were no chairs, just one big bed that almost filled the whole dim room, and Jordan had consented to share. Mainly because Cal looked exhausted. She had settled in above the sheet, the bedspread kicked off to one side, and had tried to fall asleep for hours.

But she couldn't. Something that Cal had said earlier in the day kept bothering her. "_I've run enough times in my life, and I don't think I've ever just left without my house keys. I grab them from habit if nothing else." _She hadn't had time to process everything that had happened so far. But that one little detail was nagging at her.

Her keys. _Of course she'd grabbed her keys_. She hadn't thought about it much when Cal had asked her because her mind was on other things…Woody, mostly. Every time she let her mind rest, he filled her thoughts. She was still praying that he would be okay, able to walk and return to the life he so obviously loved. A life she wondered if she could be part of.

But that file. The one that she still had, but hadn't shared with Cal. She got up and walked softly to the bathroom, closing the door so the light wouldn't disturb Cal. She needed to push past the pain of seeing her father's name associated with the long list of criminals and criminal activity that she had glimpsed. It was time she read the rest of the file, she thought, forgetting once again about the keys.

-----


	13. No Pain, No Gain

_**A/N: The usual disclaimers apply. I am so thankful for your reviews...They really inspire me to keep plugging away at my story. I haven't even had much time to read many other FanFics because I've been trying to keep up with this! I hope you are all enjoying it so far! Thanks again to all of you...As always, please read and review.**_

**PART XIII - NO PAIN, NO GAIN**

The sun shimmered through the windshield, half-waking Jordan with its light. She mumbled and tried to turn to her side, the seat belt stretched awkwardly across her frame. "Hey, you finally awake?" a sexy male voice spoke into her dream. She smiled and nodded, still mumbling, before her eyelids started to flutter open. Her hand immediately rose up to shield her eyes from the harsh rays of the sun and she looked around, trying to gauge her surroundings. Her eyes finally settled on Cal, who was grinning at her while munching a doughnut. "Want one?" he offered, holding up a small bag. "Coffee's here too…I figured you took it black." The cups were perched precariously in the cup holders, and Jordan reached for the one on her side, hoping to get to it before it tipped over. "I know, they should make the cups smaller or the holes bigger in these stupid things," Cal said, reading her mind.

Finally, Jordan had a sip of her coffee. "Mmmm…"

"Well, at least you're alive…I didn't think you were a morning person." The minivan was parked across from a Dunkin' Donuts store, in the lot of some shopping center. Jordan was glaring at him. "What? I mean, you just seem like you work better, you know -- nights." He was thinking about Jordan's weird hours the last time he was in Boston.

The lot was just starting to get busy, so it was probably still pretty early she surmised. "How did I get…here?" Jordan asked, looking around at the parking lot.

"Drove," Cal said matter-of-factly while she tried to think back to the last thing she remembered, and the last thing she had remembered was sitting at the motel reviewing Haley's file while Cal slept.

There was something...She shook her head as if to clear it, then finally rememberd. "Oh my god, Cal…We have to get to Haley's chief…"

"What is it?" Cal asked, shifting in the seat after noting the serious look on her now alert face.

"You remember that file?" She waited for his response.

"You mean the one you won't share with me? Yeah, I remember…And Jordan, I think you can let down that wall now. Really, trust me…" He pointed to the floor board between them, where the manilla file folder was lying flat.

She smiled at him. For being so resourceful, not to mention good-looking and fun to hang around with, Cal had a very fragile ego…Made so by his older brother. It was probably the only thing that really bothered her about Woody…He seemed to be so -- unforgiving. "Cal, I'm not Woody, you know…I _do_ trust you. That's why it's important that we get to the chief right away…" She picked up the folder.

"Well, aren't you going to fill me in?" Cal asked, half teasing and half serious. She nodded. "Do you know who it is we're looking for? Do you know where we can find him?" She shot him a look. "Or _her_. C'mon, give me a little leeway -- I'm from a hick town in Wisconsin. You know, the women's right movement hasn't totally caught up to us…" He smiled, showing a hint of the dimples that graced Woody's face, but Jordan didn't stop to notice. "Well? Where can we find _the chief_?"

"Umm…" Jordan was frantically flipping through papers in the file. "Yep. Here it is. Chief by the name of Marcone…No first name listed here. I don't like the looks of this…" she started. "I think I should talk to someone I know I can trust…Like Garret Macy. He is…" she stopped, quiet for a moment, remembering. Hell, she didn't even know if Garret was in jail for perjury. "He _was_," she corrected herself, "the Chief Medical Examiner…My boss. You met him during the…dig."

Jordan saw Cal's cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry about that, Jordan. You have to know by now that I would never put you in danger -- at least, not purposely." He let her remark about trusting someone slide. He was beginning to learn that Jordan didn't trust anyone too easily. And his stupid brother wasn't helping things along, he thought, then felt guilty. Hell, Woody had been shot. Maybe he was too out of it to know what he was saying. It would soon be straightened out anyway…

"Cal -- it's okay. We don't need to go back to that…We can just pick up from here." Jordan reached for his hand, interrupting his thoughts. "And right now, I think we should see Garret first…Maybe make a copy of some of this stuff and let him hang on to it…Just in case." She held up the folder to Cal.

He turned his key and started the engine. "Well, we're close to the Massachusetts border and you can fill me in as I drive…Boston, anyone?"

-----

Garret and Nigel were pouring over a few dozen photographs of Jordan's apartment, looking for any detail they had missed. After combing the place again for forensic evidence they may have overlooked, Nigel had shot several rolls of film, being careful to get the apartment and the intruder's mess from every angle. He had about ten prints blown up on the computer, with what seemed like a million more to go.

"Any luck?" Lily stuck her head into the room. Garret shrugged, bending over a frame with a magnifying glass. "You, Nige?" she addressed the Brit.

"Actually, there's something not quite right with this set of pictures…But I can't put my finger on it…"

Lily walked over to him and leaned over his shoulder. "Let me look…Sometimes all you need is a different perspective," she smiled.

"Sure, knock yourself out, love…" Nigel started. "Speaking of, did you talk to him yet?"

"Who?" Garret asked, looking up from the shots of Jordan's ripped and torn mattress.

Lily blushed and shook her head at Nigel. "Nothing, Garret. Hey…" she looked intently at the screen, steering the conversation away from her feelings for Bug. "Nigel…I don't think...These aren't Jordan's keys…"

"What?" Nigel asked. "Are you sure?" He magnified the photo as Garret walked over and peeked at the screen.

"I'm positive…Remember when we went down to the pub the last time…Before Doctor Slocum came," Lily tried to be tactful.

Garret groaned. "Yeah, I remember that. Jordan was almost too drunk to walk…"

"Oh, right! She and our Woodrow were playing some drinking game, but I was'nt quite sure of the rules."

"That's because it was an 'inside joke' kind of game -- That was the only intelligible thing I could get out of Jordan on the way home," Lily informed them. "She and Woody were both so drunk that we didn't let either of them drive. I think…Nigel, didn't you end up taking Woody home?"

Nigel nodded. "Me and Bug -- for a trim fellow, he's quite heavy. And -- you took Jordan home. You would have needed to use her keys to get into her apartment!"

"Yep…And I hate to tell you guys, but from what I remember…These are _not _Jordan's keys!"

-----

"Any luck?" Cal asked, looking up from the photocopier. Jordan shook her head. She had tried all the numbers she had for Garret and was starting to fear the worst. Maybe Walcott had gotten him jail time for perjury. But as much as Jordan clashed with the District Attorney, she had a hard time believing Renee would stoop so low. "Well, I'm almost done here. Then we can go wait at his apartment," Cal put the last of the documents from Haley's file on the copier screen and hit the start button. "Two copies, just like you wanted. I still think we should go see Woody first."

"Alright already," Jordan gave in. Truthfully, she was looking forward to it. To seeing for herself that he was okay. To trying again…

"No need to twist your arm this time?" Cal grinned. "Say," he started, wickedly, heading toward the front register at the Copy Max store. "…when _are_ you going to have sex with my brother?"

-----

Miranda got off the bus two blocks from Pearle Street. She jogged smartly past the various storefronts and brick apartment buildings and brownstones that made up this section of Boston, finally slowing when she reached number 227. From what she had gotten out of Jason Page, Doctor Jordan Cavanaugh was one tough cookie and was, he believed, headed back toward Boston. He had lost their trail when they had run from the restaurant. So Miranda had come prepared. She put her hand into the front pocket of her warm-up suit and patted her 10mm Glock 29 lovingly before stepping under the crime scene tape.

She approached the building, her pace slowing to a business-like stride. A uniformed officer was posted in the hallway. "Jill O'Connell, FBI," Miranda lied, all business and flashing her badge. The balding officer tipped his hat without checking her ID and let her pass, and she started up the stairway so he wouldn't know what floor she was on. It didn't take long for her to get into Doctor Cavanaugh's apartment. She scanned the mess quickly and cursed when she saw a set of keys sitting out on the counter. Grabbing them with a now-gloved hand, she slipped them into her front pocket, opposite the glock. A quick glance at the clock told her that her time was almost up. She needed to be quick and efficient, she reminded herself. She rifled through the few files that lay open on the counter, the papers scattered as if someone had thrown them there. Not finding anything that contained information familiar to her plight, she walked back toward the bedroom. No files, no papers. _That_, she thought smugly, _could only mean one thing_. Doctor Cavanaugh had the papers with her, had probably read them by now. She would have to act fast, before the bitch had the chance to contact anyone. _I have no choice now_, she thought, patting the gun in her pocket. _The doctor must die_.

-----

Jordan sat quietly in the corner of Woody's room watching him sleep. His breathing was deep and even, much improved from the last time she'd seen him, before she had left Boston. She wondered how she could explain things, wishing she wouldn't have been stupid enough to leave him a note. What could she possibly say when he woke up? Her usual repertoire of sarcasm and dry humor just didn't seem appropriate. She clasped and unclasped her hands, trying to think of some outlet for her nervous energy. God, why was she so nervous? It was Woody, right? Her very best friend…The man she hoped she could spend the rest of her life with. But the thought of their last conversation started to pick at her, and she rose as quietly as possible. Maybe she could see him another time, she reasoned -- maybe on a case. Then she wouldn't feel so awkward, like a teenage girl with a case of puppy love. Only she was well past her teen years, and this was certainly no case of puppy love. From the time she'd learned that Woody had been shot, she had realized with intense clarity that she really, truly loved him. It scared her, this strange new feeling. Instead of wanting to run away, she wanted to stay rooted where he could find her. She hadn't wanted to leave in the first place and now what could she say? She stood and tiptoed toward the light in the hall, and almost made it to the door when she turned to look at Woody again, bumping into his tray with a loud clatter. He woke instantly, almost jumping up out of the bed, and she realized that the loud noise had probably reminded him of the shooting. His eyes darted around the room, finally settling on her.

"_Jordan_?" he rubbed his eyes, asif seeing a ghost. "Oh my god, Jordan…_is it really you_?" His voice was filled with something she hadn't heard the last time they had really talked…She nodded and walked to the bed slowly, giving him time to breathe.

"You didn't expect me to come without some type of grand entrance, did you?" she quipped, instantly regretting how she always went running from the serious stuff she wanted to say. His crystalline eyes were filled with the look of what she hoped was still love…They were not the cold ones that had ordered her out of this same room only a week before - and while that gave her some small hope, it also made her nervous.

"Jordan…Where have you been?" he asked, worry and concern on his face.

"Oh you know…sightseeing this great country of ours, mostly from dive motel rooms. But hey -- I found a friend of yours in the meantime…" she said, not sure how to tell him what she really wanted to say, and her thoughts were jumbled with the seriousness of finding Garret and Haley and the need to tell Woody what her heart had been wanting to say for so long. She could feel her body pulling toward the door, poised for flight, but willed herself to stay.

Woody could see that something was bothering Jordan. She was pacing around, not staying in one spot. It was almost as if she were a child with a sugar high. "Jordan," he spoke a little more firmly. "We've been looking all over for you…Where the hell have you been?"

She wasn't sure how to answer him, not sure of how much he knew. "I was just fine. Really…" His look was skeptical at best, and Jordan knew she couldn't hide the truth from him, especially not if she expected any kind of relationship to develop. "Look, I just had to leave Boston for a little while. I found something about my…"

"Let me guess…About your mother's death," Woody rolled his eyes, impatient. He knew from talking to Nigel and Garret that Jordan's apartment had been trashed, her El Camino torched…To think that it had something to do with her mother's murder was stretching it a bit for him, even though it was a remote possibility. But he was worried about her safety. Hell, couldn't she see that he was in no condition to go off rescuing her? The anger of the past week surfaced, even as he tried to quell the feeling.

Jordan took in Woody's sarcastic tone, but tried to dismiss it. He was hurting, he had been worried -- It was unreasonable for her to think that they could just go back to where they were. But where _was_ that? She recalled their last conversation while jogging. It had turned less than civil when she had declined Woody's offer to take her to the Patti Griffin concert. She was a little confused by his response, especially after the letter, but she thought maybe the shocik of seeing her was taking its toll on him. "Look…I need your help with something…" she started, opting for the easy way out, figuring that Woody's moods were still unsteady, maybe due to medication. At least she hoped...They could always go over the serious stuff later, right?

"Of course you do…" He wondered if they could ever get ahead in their relationship and stop moving backward. She needed him -- didn't she always? He frowned at her. "Jordan, I'm not even back at a desk job yet, in case you haven't noticed." They both looked down at the sheet which covered his legs. It occurred to him that she hadn't asked for an update on his condition, and that thought made him angry. But he was so relieved to see her, he bit back whatever it was he had been going to say next.

In her mind, Jordan was weighing the pros and cons of confiding in Woody. It was true, he wasn't back on the force -- _Or even out of his bed_, she thought, feeling as though a knife were piercing her heart. She knew he would wonder why she hadn't asked about his condition or his prognosis. She had already found out, having called Doctor Roberts and Doctor Turner the minute she was within the city limits. He would walk again, but how soon was anyone's guess. But even if he wasn't on the force right now, he could get the information she needed. She opened her mouth, throwing caution to the wind. "Look, Woody…Someone has been tailing me up and down the east coast…If it wasn't for Cal, I wouldn't have…"

Woody's face turned instantly at the sound of his brother's name. "_Cal_?"It was a look ofpure hatred. Jordan had seen him look at child molesters and murders like that…To think that Woody hated his own brother as much as the criminals he put away every day made her step back, unsure.

"Woody, he's your own brother…Flesh and blood…" she began.

Woody's jaw was set. "I don't want you near him, Jordan. He's bad news. He'll only hurt you…Don't you remember what happened with the Albanian mob? You were almost killed, Jordan…"

_You were almost killed_…It brought up memories of Woody rescuing her from Herman Redding, a man who had killed his own wife and children and left them buried in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. But she shook off the nostalgia of Woody's concern for her distress in that situation. He couldn't possibly be comparing Cal to that…that monster, could he? "Woody, Cal's not gonna' hurt me…"

"Oh really? How can you be so sure? Because you know what -- everything he ever told me most of his life has been a lie…A string of lies. I told you before about his addictions…Come on, Jordan -- we see the results of that kind of lifestyle _every day_…Hardened criminals who just don't care about the people they hurt…"

"Woody, Cal is not like that!"

"How would you even know? Believe me, I've spent enough time with him in my lifetime to know what kind of person he is…" he said with a small trace of regret. "No. Absolutely not. If he calls you, don't you dare go near him…He's trouble."

"_Don't dare_? I don't remember that I gave you permission to rule my life!" Jordan stopped her pacing and stared at him, her jaw set. She was not used to anyone trying to treat her heavy-handed. But more than that was the jealousy. Over Cal. Who had been her friend when she had needed him. It was a side of Woody that was -- not like anything she wanted. Not like anything they'd had. His eyes were hard and cold again, the same stranger that had booted her from his room the week before. She tried to steady her voice. "Cal has done nothing but help me the last few days and…"

His face fell. She wanted to move toward him, but his words stopped her in her tracks. "_What_! You mean you were _with_ him? All this time?" The thought of Jordan with Cal made him almost sick to his stomach. He had flashbacks of his childhood. Of missing out on everything to take care of Cal. Of all the friends he'd lost because of Cal. Of all the dates he'd lost to Cal, all through high school and beyond, because of Cal's rugged good looks, easy going manner and fun-loving ways. Of losing his father's affection because of Cal. Cal...And now Jordan was defending him. That could only mean…He swallowed hard, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Jordan…and Cal.

Jordan saw Woody's face pale and guessed what was running through his mind. "Woody, it's _not_ like that!" Jordan pleaded with him, trying to convince him that nothing had happened.

"You're with _him_…isn't that enough? And all the while I worried about you, about _us_…I thought - that is, Doctor Macy, Lily -- they all said you loved _me_. That you _really_ loved me. And I find out that you've been shacking up with _Cal_ - my own _brother_, for god's sake, Jordan! How the hell do you expect me to react? What did you think I would say?"

Jordan looked at him, her face a mixture of shock and hurt. "You really think that I would say all those things to you and then leave you for your _brother_?" she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Woody's jaw was tight. "_It's not fixable now, Jordan_. Not after this…" his voice was heavy. "This time I really do want you to go. Just get the hell out of my life, okay? I can't do this anymore…"

Jordan sunk down onto the chair. It was happening again. He was rejecting her again, for nothing. No reason. At least no sane, logical reason. Her mind went numb. "You can't mean it…" she tried feebly.

"I do. Get the hell out of here. Go back to wherever it was you were going…Go back to him!" he practically spat, his eyes a cold and distant sky. Jordan gazed at him evenly. She didn't see any of the warmth of the Farm Boy she had finally given her heart to.

"But I -- I love you, Woody. _I mean it_…And you -- _you love me_. I know you do…" she attempted.

He pointed toward the door. "Anything I may have felt for you is gone." His voice was hard, cruel. Inside, he was just about ready to break down. But he refused to go through her antics again, and he absolutely would not tolerate being second to Cal in any way. Not again. It had happened too many times in his life, and this was the last straw. Cal and Jordan…the thought of it hurt more deeply than anything he had ever experienced…Even the shooting and the surgery hadn't left him in so much pain.

Cal. It was Cal who had risked Jordan's life before. Had she forgotten so soon? He bit his lip, trying to hold back all the hurtful things he wanted to say -- he could barely keep from screaming at her. _How the hell did this happen? _he wondered. "Jordan…Go," he choked, shaking his head in disbelief.

She was crying now, silent tears streaming down her face. He wanted desperately to draw her to him, to wipe them away -- but he held firm as she finally, slowly rose and started for the door. "You're wrong!" she cried out. "There is no one else…_No one_! And _especially_ not Cal!"

"Jordan, I'm moving on. This ship has sailed -- for good…So go on back to Cal…" there was venom in his voice as he mentioned his brother's name.

She turned toward him when she reached the door, a look of determination on her face. "Fine, Woody -- if that's what you really want, then that's exactly what you're going to get!" she told him, her voice harsh and unlike the one he heard over and over again in his dreams. "But remember this…You're the one that closed the door. This bridge is burned…"

-----


	14. Unforgivable

_**A/N: I apologize to all of you for not updating sooner, but my bil screwed up my computer and I lost everything, including all the remaining chapters of this story that I had been working on. Anyway, my online service is touch-and-go at best, so I will try to update soon. Thanks for the reviews!**_

_**The usual disclaimers apply...**_

**PART XIV - UNFORGIVABLE**

Cal was watching the people, warily scanning each face as he waited for Jordan. Doctors and nurses and orderlies scurried back and forth, wheeling patients or ferrying charts or coffees to and fro. No sign so far of the stranger. Cal breathed a small sigh of relief. He had finally gotten a little comfortable in one of the chairs, an under-stuffed cheap plastic thing that made noise every time he moved. Clearly the waiting room at Boston General was in need of a makeover. He glanced up at the clock, its hand loudly but slowly ticking the seconds, the minutes and the hours. Time had never seemed to move so slowly for him before, but he was battling with the need to see Woody versus protect Jordan. She had tried to get him to go up with her, but he wasn't quite sure it was the best idea. So instead he carefully scanned each face, telling himself that he would reconcile things with his brother later. Woody always came around in the end, right?

He figured they might be in Boston for awhile, but they would probably have to check into another hotel room. It was the safest bet at the moment. No one knew - or at least no one was supposed to know - that Jordan was back in Boston. He had convinced her that they couldn't go traipsing around her apartment, and a quick drive-by revealed the all-too-familiar blaring yellow crime scene tape and a few uniformed officers near the street and the door of her building. She couldn't stay at the morgue either, and she didn't want to put anyone else in any danger. So she had finally agreed to another night in a room with Cal as her protector. He grinned to himself -- She was kinda' getting used to him.

He guessed that she had a lot to say to Woody…Aside from asking for his help in looking through Haley's cryptic file, Cal had also convinced her to try again as far as her feelings went. Knowing that Woody had been on drugs and had probably been scared as hell about the surgery and its possible outcome, Cal had guessed that his brother's emotions had been far from normal when Jordan revealed her feelings. After her confirmation of the rocky almost-relationship, he pointed out that Woody had had every reason to be skeptical. So he wore her down until she had agreed to test the waters, and had grabbed the file. "Okay, I'll try…You just don't quit, do you?" she'd asked, seeing so much of Woody in Cal. He had shaken his head. She had smiled bravely, unsure of herself.

"Hey, you'll make a great sister-in-law…" he said. Jordan had smiled, a bright and beautiful, full smile…And Cal had known that she truly wanted things to work out with Woody. So when he saw her figure emerging from the elevator doors, he was more than a little surprised. It had been a short visit…Too short. One glance at Jordan and he could see that she was angry and upset. She motioned for him to follow, silent, angry tears pouring down her face. He didn't say anything until they were out of the hospital, giving her time to think.

But before long, Cal couldn't stand it anymore. "Have a fight?" he tested, his eyebrow arched, teasing her. He immediately went to her side when he saw her start to shake, but she shrugged him off. "Geez, Jordan…I was only kidding." They trudged to the parking garage, but the rest of the trip was silent, Jordan waiting in the minivan while Cal gave their fake names to the clerk at another hotel and procured a key.

-----

"I know all little boys play cops and robbers from time to time, but what made you decide to go the distance?" a voice asked from the doorway. Woody looked down at his watch. It must be the physical therapist, he thought. The nurse had warned him she would be stopping by to assess his legs. He was not sure if he was ready for the inevitable news - that he wouldn't be on the force any time soon. He wasn't in the mood for this now, not after what he'd just learned about Jordan and Cal.

She walked into the room, her blonde hair pulled up and twisted neatly into a bun. "Hi there. I'm Marcia. Marcia Windham…Physical Therapist. So…you wanted to be a cop because…" she smiled at him, waiting for a response.

Her smile was too bright, Woody decided. "Oh, you know…father was a sheriff. I wanted to follow in his footsteps -- I just didn't think it'd be so literal." Woody was silent for a minute, thinking of the shooting, then decided to change the subject. "And you?" he asked politely.

"You don't want to hear my soap opera," she told him, with a confidential wink. She walked over, flipped the sheet over to one side and began rubbing his lower legs vigorously, first one and then another.

"Sure I do," he smiled at her somewhat warmly, trying to ignore the severe pain in his legs.

She looked up at him, seeing him wince with pain. "I guess you _do_ need a distraction, Detective. We-ell… I was twelve, my parents were arguing in the front seat, my sister and I were in the back and Dad was turning his head to yell at us…." she closed her eyes, remembering the scene. "The car was hit head-on. Drunk driver, killed him instantly. My mom died the next night, and dad…well. He didn't walk again. I guess I kind of started this job out of guilt, you know…the arguing made Dad lose his focus on the road. But I finally realized that it had not been my fault, there had been nowhere else to go to swerve out of danger, and things ended up the way they did for a reason…I spent my time watching the physical therapists work with my dad and found my calling, so to speak. I love my job, the people I meet - well, usually," she looked at him and smiled. "But now it's for me, you know? Not because I am trying to assuage some self-imposed guilt and all…I love what I do. I help people see that there can be a life for them, regardless of their situation, because they're still _alive_." Woody looked doubtful, and Marcia was quick to notice. "You don't believe me? Things can't be that bad…You can still breathe. So…I'll be working with you every day, three times a day, until we figure out how much work there is to be done. It might go quickly - with injuries like this you can never tell until you really start to push the edge of the envelope."

"When you find out that I can't…" Woody frowned.

Marcia rubbed one spot, waiting for him to show signs of flinching, and saw him wince with pain. "See? It hurt. That's good…You can feel it. Just like I can feel mine. It's a start…"

"Look…It's hopeless, alright. I'm not going to ever get back to where I can walk, let alone run, six miles. You might as well just leave me alone." His thoughts were far from physical therapy. He couldn't stop thinking about Jordan and Cal…

"You know Detective, I'm not quite sure what's bothering you right now…But -- you could channel your anger, frustration and self-pity into your therapy. I think things would go a lot quicker if you actually believed that you could walk and would purpose to start practicing a little, but you know - it really is up to you how fast we go. Doctor Roberts and Doctor Turner have okayed the therapy because they believe you're gonna' be just fine. If you start out with a negative attitude…"

Woody looked at her in surprise. "You're not saying…"

"That you're a stubborn ass?" She teased him, smiling. "Yes, I am…But more than that -- I'm telling you that you can walk again, just like before. There's nothing wrong with your muscles that a little determination won't cure. Swallow your pride, Detective, and maybe you'll find that you'll be able to go back to the life you loved before the shooting." Woody was stunned at her directness. "Well, Detective, I guess I'll leave you with that to think about." She covered his now sore legs with the sheet and hastily exited the room. Woody thought about what she'd told him, and he wondered if he really could have his life back…That is, most of it.

Maybe he was being a little too childish. After all, Doctor Roberts was one of the best. And Doctor Turner had been pretty positive. If the course was now up to him, well…He wanted to walk - hell, he wanted to run again! And then he could leave this god-forsaken room…

It still smelled of her. He looked at the chair where Jordan had sat earlier. He fought back the urge to vomit and closed his eyes, hoping to erase the memory of her, but he could see the confusion on her face and wondered, not for the first time, if maybe he had misjudged the situation -- again.

-----

Bug was pacing in Trace, waiting for Doctor Macy. Through the scientific wonders of forensic palynology, he had found something that could unlock the mystery of the woman who had spent her last days as Bridget Carter. Pollen. Two tiny grains of pollen, to be exact -- from the _Lupinus perennis - _the lupine - dusted with minute traces of what had probably been salt water, and wild rice. Maine? It seemed highly likely that Bridget Carter had been to the Casco Bay area of Maine, a mere 125 or so miles north of Boston…Only a two and a half hour drive, with some leeway for heavy traffic. What was in Maine? And more importantly, Bug wondered, what had happened to Bridget Carter that had brought her body to Boston?

-----

Cal waited until he shut the door, making sure the room was secure, before he said anything else to Jordan about her meeting with Woody. She was pensive, pacing -- nervous energy one minute and still and silent the next. All the while, the tears just fell. She was not an overly emotional women, at least not like some of the drama queens Cal had known, so he waited until he finally couldn't stand the silence and the suspense and stood close to her. He opened his arms and she went into the embrace, dampening his shirt with her silent tears. "Wh--what happened?" he asked gently. At first, he had expected her to be explosive, angry…But in the short ride to the motel, the anger had been wholly replaced by something else…something akin to defeat.

"I…Woody doesn't…It's over, Cal. Really over. I - I can't believe he's…" she broke down then, all the pain and sorrow of the last week or two flooding out in her tears. She couldn't tell Cal what Woody had said, didn't want to drive the wedge further, even though she was sure that Woody wouldn't forgive Cal for his part with the Albanian mob. _And me_, she thought. _Even though there was nothing, he'll never forgive Cal because of me…_

"God, what happened in there? What the hell was he mad about? It isn't your fault…Come on, Jordan. It isn't…" Cal tried to comfort her, wondering if the small bit of information Jordan had finally shared with him from Haley's file had caused his brother to lose his good senses. It wasn't Jordan's fault that her father had been involved in things that made him look a little more than crooked. Cal knew too well about his brother's disdain for anyone who was less than an upstanding citizen…especially a cop. One look at Max's track record and maybe he had decided that…Jordan's sobs began to rack her small frame, interrupting his thoughts, and Cal got angry. Damn Woody's self-righteousness…If he really loved Jordan, he would look past all that, wouldn't he?

Cal rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. Woody was always trying to be the good, upstanding citizen… Didn't he realize that not everyone could be him? "It's my fault, Jordan…Woody's looked out for me his whole life, and I've been nothing but bad news…He just expects everyone to live up to his standards and he doesn't realize that everyone can't…He shouldn't blame you for your father's…" Cal's voice trailed off. He didn't know what else to say. Jordan just stood there, sobbing anew, and he almost hated Woody for what he had done to her. She was amazing, couldn't Woody see that?

After what seemed like eternity, Jordan finally stopped crying. "I told you we shouldn't have come to Boston," she said with an attempt at a smile. Cal's support was great on the one hand, but her mind was filled with Woody's accusations. There had been no truth in them at all. Cal had been nothing but helpful, protective -- like a brother. She had never thought of him as anything else. He was proving it now, she thought, feeling sorry for him because the relationship he thought he could build with his brother was not going to happen. Because of her. She was here with Cal now, in a hotel room, alone. Just like Woody had accused. Cal was only like a brother to her - her mind fought with Woody's impossible logic. But the things Woody had said made her stop and look up at Cal through her tears, seeing him as more than a brother-figure for the first time. He was handsome, winsome, with a vulnerability that he hid behind his penchant for trouble. She closed her eyes and leaned toward him, even as Cal leaned toward her. _It has been far too long_, she thought briefly.

After spending the last few days cooped up inside motel rooms with her, Cal could just close his eyes and her features were crystal clear. He had never thought about her as more than a sister, but if Woody wanted to be stupid…Jordan didn't need his judgmental attitude right now. She needed help. He took in the scent of her, his eyes closed to savor the moment, his thoughts running back to the several motels they'd been in, her sleeping near him in almost nothing. He couldn't understand it…Why didn't Woody want her? She was beautiful, fun, adventurous and…Their lips brushed against each other softly, then parted, making way for something more. But Jordan opened her eyes and pulled back rapidly.

"Oh my God!" he heard her blurt, half-whispered, before he jumped back. She sat looking at him, some indefinable emotion playing across her face.

"Jordan…" He should have known…He knew she loved Woody, she'd told him time and again, even in her actions, the smile she got when they talked about him. Cal grabbed his jacket and hurried toward the door. "I'm…I'm so very, very sorry!" he stammered before bolting out of the room, a bit disappointed that nothing could develop between them, but more afraid that he'd lost her as a friend.

Jordan sat on the bed, feeling a mixture of confusion and betrayal. Hot tears of shame coursed down her cheeks. She had lost Cal's friendship - she was sure of it. But more than that, she had betrayed Woody…The only man she had ever really and truly loved. And with his own brother. No matter what she'd said in anger at the hospital, she had never meant for this to happen. It was unforgivable.

-----

Nigel stopped by the hospital during his lunch break to discuss FBI Agent Drew Haley with Woody. He was hoping the detective could help him uncover some inconsistencies in Haley's personnel file…A file he'd gotten none to easily. Thankfully, Nigel thought, I have friends in high places…And low ones too. He smiled, licking his lips and thinking of one of the secretaries he was especially friendly with. She had agreed to pilfer the file in question, and he'd used the best scanning equipment the morgue afforded -- one thing he thanked Slocum for -- to make highly defined digital copies before sending them back right away. But when he walked into the room, Woody was not in the mood to discuss anything work-related.

"Hey, Woodrow…I have some information you might be interested in…" Nigel began.

"Not interested," Woody barely looked up at the Brit and refused to accept the documents Nigel held out to him.

"C'mon,mate…This will help us find Jordan. We really need to figure out what's going on here…" Nigel tried again.

"She's in Boston." Woody's voice was flat, his eyes vacant and empty.

"_What_!" Nigel was incredulous. "How do you know? Did she call?"

Woody turned to really look at Nigel for the first time. Someone else Jordan had wrapped around her little finger, waiting to do her bidding. He was sick to his stomach, his mind filled with visions of Cal running his hands through Jordan's gorgeous chestnut locks, kissing her, undressing her, brushing his hands up and down her silky skin…It was almost more than he could bear. "She was here…" he choked, but Nigel interrupted him.

"_Here_! Where is she now? That's great! That's…" but anything Nigel was going to say was silenced by the look of loathing the crossed Woody's face.

"I'm sure you'll find her…She's with my brother."

"C'mon, our little Jo isn't a fickle bird…It's you she wants, Woodrow. I'd bet my computers on it…" Nigel said with all seriousness.

Woody shook his head. "You're wrong. It's _over_."

"But…"

"Don't. Just go." Woody's face was hard. Nigel turned, only glancing back once at the detective.

"What about Jordan?" he asked from the doorway.

"She's dead to me," Woody said flatly. Nigel gasped. "_Dead_," he repeated firmly. "I don't want to hear anything from her or about her…Don't bother me about her anymore." The words were gut-wrenching. But now that Jordan had Cal, he would do what he should have done months - hell, years - ago…He would finally, finally move on.

-----

"Alright, people…What have we got?" Slocum called to the whispering group gathered in the conference room.

"Bridget Carter…She was found burned in Jordan's El Camino. I found some traces of pollen specific to wild rice and lupine, and when I cross-referenced them, both strains are indigenous to Maine. Well, actually, the lupines that were native to Maine are now extinct, and the lupine was reintroduced in..."

"Doctor!" Slocum interrupted.

"Right. Anyway, I'm sure that we should be looking in The Casco Bay area of Maine...There are..."

"Good job, Doctor…What else?" Slocum asked. "We need to get this thing solved. Doctor Cavanaugh has been missing close to a week now…" The group looked from one to another. He didn't need to remind them…Jordan's absence was definitely felt.

"The keys on her counter…They don't belong to Jordan," Lily offered. Bug cast a glance and a smile at Lily.

"I want those keys…We can…" Slocum looked down at his notepad, trying to outline a course of action.

Nigel looked down at his notes. Haley was still an enigma. But he probably should volunteer the information Woody had given. "Jordan's in Boston…" he started.

"_What_!" Garret gasped. "Is she okay? Have you seen her?"

"Where is she?" Lily demanded.

"I don't know…She stopped to see Woody -- Detective Hoyt -- at the hospital. The only thing I do know is that Woody believes she's with his brother, Calvin…"

"Cal?" Bug asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What? Is this guy trouble or something?" Slocum asked.

"I don't know…" Nigel's voice trailed off.

"We'd better get on this right away. Even if Woody saw Jordan alive and well earlier today, it doesn't mean she's safe," Garret said, bringing the focus of the conversation back to Jordan and the mystery of her whereabouts.

"What do you suggest, Doctor? If Doctor Cavanaugh was seen in Boston…"

"What about her apartment? She can't go back there. No, she's not safe. And she won't be until we find out what happened to Bridget Carter…" Garret paused, trying to assess the situation. "I think I'm going to take a little road trip…That is," he said, turning to Slocum, "…if it's alright with you."

"I hear Maine is nice this time of year…" Slocum responded dryly. "Doctor Vijay, you stick around for now. I might need a little help holding down the fort. Doctor Townsend…I think you should accompany Doctor Macy. If you find anything, I want to know about it right away!"

"No problem," Garret said, walking toward Jordan's office with Nigel in tow.

"Alright, then. Everyone else back to work," Slocum said, exiting the conference room.

"Cal? Woody's gonna' be pissed," Lily whispered to Bug, remembering their conversation about the detective's baby brother.

"I have a feeling this does not bode well…" Bug added, holding the door open for Lily.

"Yeah, you and me both…"

-----


	15. Clue Me In

_**A/N: This chapter is shorter than my usual lengthy tomes, but I did want to hurry and post before another computer disaster occurred. I am really appreciative of the reviews. I love the feedback and the comments - but most of all, I am glad you all seem to be enjoying the story!**_

_**The usual disclaimers apply -- I don't own the CJ characters, just the few extras I've added.**_

**PART XV - CLUE ME IN**

-----

The shadows of the afternoon had shifted. Jordan sat in the motel room alone, Haley's file untouched on the bed next to her. She was weary, probably from all the stress and anxiety of her failed meeting with Woody and the subsequent betrayal. But there was something else now, too. Some small feeling rising from the pit of her stomach. She was used to being alone, used to walking through the dark streets and alleys of Boston, used to roaming among the dead. But now, for what seemed like the first time, she felt alone and afraid. Actually _afraid_. Like she had when she was little, sneaking up the steps of the old judge's house after his wife was rumored to have killed him. She only ran up to the door once, on a dare. Nothing else could've gotten her to go besides her fear of losing her pride. But now Woody had thrown her out of his life for good. He was not going to be around to pick up any pieces, to make sure she was safe and sound and as happy as she got in her own twisted way. She was alone and someone was following her.

She picked up Haley's cryptic file again, feeling certain that if she could only solve the mystery she could be safe. His brief handwritten notes kept surfacing between the neatly typed pages of highly confidential and sensitive reports, and she stared at them again and again, knowing she was missing something. "Damn it!" she cried out in frustration. She grabbed a beer from the mini bar and deftly untwisted the top without an opener. The amber liquid swirled in her mouth and she started to calm down. She'd never figure it out if she couldn't focus. If and when Cal ever came back, they could role play it. Sort out the crime and the scene the way she had always done it like her father…

Just the thought of her father made her angry. After all, he'd been the first in a long string of males to have lied to her over and over again, concealing things and ultimately abandoning her. She had no idea where he was, he'd disappeared as mysteriously as he'd vanished the day after they'd shared chowder on the roof of the building that housed the morgue. She thought they'd called a truce. Another lie. Garret had done the same thing…Lied and concealed evidence and left the morgue without a fight…Although how could you really fight the fact that you broke the law? _Just when you thought you knew someone…_Her thoughts immediately went to Woody. He had suddenly -- changed. Become a stranger seemingly overnight. She tried in vain to erase the detective from her mind, but she could see them dancing at The Pogue, feel his arm on her back as she was performing a routine autopsy, see him helping her sorry, drunken ass home after the morgue Christmas party, hear him whisper to her "_It could have been you…_" with emotion and feeling and…love. Her thoughts came back to the present, refusing to deal with the stone look Woody had given her. Her wounds were too raw, and she truly needed to focus if she was ever to recapture the feeling of being safe.

Jordan slowly and methodically spread the numerous sheets of paper out again on the bed. But when she started to look at the sketch of notes from the autopsies, she found another blaring inconsistency. Drew had been expecting _three_ bodies when he'd shown up at her scene. Now she was getting somewhere. She settled back onto the bed, her legs crossed and her elbows resting on her knees, deep in concentration. Just who had Drew been expecting to find? She immediately routed the information to Garret via voice mail, informing him nonchalantly of her approximate whereabouts and the missing third body, then hung up before the normal parameters of a tapped phone could root her out. Knowing Garret, he'd probably enlisted Nigel's help by now to trace any incoming calls and find her, and she was not ready to face any of them.

"How in the hell are you going to deal with this, Jo?" a voice called as the door opened. She looked up, startled to find Cal there, and opened her mouth to greet him. But no words came. "I mean, how the hell can Woody be so damned self-righteous?" Cal started in on Woody, harking back to their childhood when his older brother needed to prove himself right time and again. Jordan just sat there, listening, unsure of how to act. She had finally betrayed Woody with the man in front of her -- the one who was mad as hell about Woody's rejection of her -- and she couldn't muster the energy to explain that Woody was basing that rejection on a major misunderstanding involving the two parties in the room. All the usual defenses were set aside in favor of compassion for the man who had helped her evade capture in the last few days. But she felt something akin to loathing pull up out of her stomach, and she turned away, not knowing if it was Cal she hated for the simple fact that he'd been there, been concerned for her safety, been accessible. Or if she hated Woody for his stubborn blindness and his unfounded hatred for his brother. Or if she hated herself. And Cal rambled on, for once not keying in to her emotions, not noticing her silence.

-----

Garret and Nigel drove up I-95 in silence. Nigel was more than glad that he'd brought a book. He lifted his eyes briefly from the Kay Scarpetta thriller to glance over at Doctor Macy, whose jaw was still clenched in a way that alerted everyone not to interrupt him. Nigel didn't know if he was thinking about Jordan and the purpose of their little road trip or if he was thinking about Slocum, who had commanded Garret to alert him immediately should he find anything to support Bug's findings. The arrogant ass…As if _he_, Slocum, would know the first thing about finding Jordan. Bloody hell! What a tangled mess it was all turning out to be!

-----

The awkward silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Cal tried to focus his attention anywhere else in the room, but his eyes kept coming back to her. He had finally caught the look in her eyes, the discomfort, and had stopped his rambling. He shuffled his feet nervously, tapping on the floor to some rhythm of his own making.

Jordan had turned back to the task at hand, scanning Haley's file, looking for the "who". If Haley had been expecting three bodies, just what had happened to the third?

She had noticed that the original agenda from the afternoon had been replaced, too. Impossible. Jordan had seen Drew scribbling notes on the tidy 'to-do' list with her own eyes before he'd set the file down during the second autopsy. He was so thorough. "Autopsy Body One". "Review SET file". "Autopsy Body Two". "Take ME to Dinner" had been the thing scrawled on the bottom of the list. She had been amused to see herself actually on his agenda, as a point not to be missed. He had scribbled a few notes about each of the bodies. But Haley's precise agenda was set just slightly out of order in the file now and had none of the information she'd seen him write. What, exactly, was a SET file? She thought back to their conversation during the autopsies.

"_Look, I trust you, Jordan. And you of all people know that doesn't come easy -- for either of us. But I need to know _exactly_ how these agents died…I want _you_ to do the autopsies. Share the results with me _before_ you write up your report."_

'_Strange,' she thought. 'What about the FBI's own medical examiner? Their own forensic experts? They were unusually absent from the room.' She had smiled gamely, relieved that there would be no Feds looking over her shoulder anyway. "No problem. Just tell me what I'm looking for."_

_Haley's face had paled slightly, but he recovered quickly. "I want this done with no preconceived ideas on your part. Just promise me you'll let me know what you find as soon as you find it."_

"_Kinda' hard to avoid when you're right here," she stated, then indicated that he needed to slide around to the other side of the table. He was in her way. She couldn't get to the gunshot wound. And when she finally did get close enough to pull back the skin slightly, she was more than surprised. She reviewed the notes she'd jotted about the position of the bodies she and Bug had found. There had been no indication that it was personal, just some drive-by for the guy on the table. But of course the second victim had caused them to look a little more closely at the forensics. Only trouble was, she didn't have Bug's notes. She'd have to catch up with him. But now she had to double-check her findings…Haley was watching her face for any sign of a conclusive finding. She wasn't ready to give one. "Powder burns." She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "He was shot at close range. Possibly execution-style…Wanna' tell me what you think is going on?" _

_Drew shook his head. "Not yet…Just finish the autopsies. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow." He was vague. It shouldn't have surprised her. And she really didn't know him well enough to know all of his mannerisms -- not like Woody when he had his theories about a case. Her eyes clouded for an instant at the thought of him, but she turned back to her work, hoping to extract the bullet. It wasn't there._

"_Thorough job…The bullet's gone." But she was surprised. The killer couldn't possibly have had enough time to extract a bullet. A patrol car had been there within minutes._

"_Can you tell what kind of gun was used?" Haley waited, moving back toward her. "It's important." He stressed the last word and finally it clicked for Jordan. Inside job._

_She put down the scalpel and pulled off her gloves. "Alright. I want to know what's going on." And he had given her the briefest briefing on the case. An undercover job. His own hand-picked agents. His responsibility. End of story._

Although Jordan knew Haley had been holding back information, it hadn't really bothered her. Until now. She decided to dial his number, but was told curtly that he was not in. She looked back at the agenda, not seeing any mention of the autopsies, the SET file or the dinner -- the notes she'd seem him scratch off, his letters block-style and precise. The clearing of Cal's throat caused her to snap out of her concentrated state and look up at him. His eyes were clouded over.

"Were you listening to me, Jordan?" he asked. She looked at him guiltily and shook her head while he repeated himself patiently, finishing with. "It's a temporary solution, Jordan." Cal's statement was true, but admitting he was right meant she would also have to concede that she was still in no position to protect herself. And so she would fall back on Cal for his advice - and his companionship, too, but not in the sense that Woody was most likely still imagining. "Look," he said, "I know what you're thinking…But I've been in tight spots before and I think this will at least help…"

She looked at the bottle, nodded in defeat and walked toward the bathroom, motioning for him to follow. He really had no idea what she was thinking. She wasn't sure she did either…Her mind was swimming in several different directions. But she attempting a positive smile, wanting to hurry so she could get back to the file and they could finally try the role-playing that accompanied most of her cases. _Well_, she thought gamely, _maybe I'll be more normal as a redhead_.

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End file.
